


Halloween Hookups

by oyhumbug



Category: General Hospital
Genre: Drama, F/M, Flash Fic, Friendship, Humor, Romance, alternative history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-19
Updated: 2007-10-31
Packaged: 2018-01-19 06:17:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1459045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oyhumbug/pseuds/oyhumbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once a year, two people meet up on Halloween for thirteen years straight. During the rest of the year, their paths never seem to cross. Are the brief meetings meaningful enough to form something lasting?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Double, Double – Toil and Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> Previously posted on fanfiction.net, LJ (oy_humbug2), my own site (Delicious Infatuation), and Liason message boards.

_rompt #1: **When it appears that you have killed the monster, never check to see if it's really dead.**_

**Halloween Hookups**

**Double, Double – Toil and Trouble**

Birthday cakes and presents were all well and good, but, as Elizabeth Imogene Webber turned thirteen, she wanted something a little more juicy for her birthday; she wanted to live life on the edge…or as close to it as an underage minor could…and she wanted to make sure that she never forgot the day she became a teenager. So, with that in mind, she had planned her own celebration. Armed with an all black ensemble, a flashlight, cigarettes, a baseball bat, and cab fare, she had set out for the most notorious residence in Port Charles prepared to announce to the world that little Lizzie Webber was no longer a child; she was on the verge of becoming a woman, a force to be reckoned with, and it felt damn good.

Getting into the Quartermaine property had been easy enough. Perhaps it was because her family was friends with the wealthy Q's or better yet she liked to think it was simply her highly motivated personality, but, whatever the reason, she slipped into the gardens that surrounded the mansion and wound her way towards her destination without even a breath of noise being left in her wake.

It was really quite simple really. After all, the family only had one pet, a spoiled, rather ugly looking mutt that was treated better than the servants who dedicated their entire lives to the rude aristocrats, and she knew the dog wouldn't give her presence away. So, confident in both her plan and herself, Elizabeth smirked at the knowledge that what she was about to do would crush little miss Emily Bowen. The girl was new in town, recently adopted by the Quartermaines, and she hated her. She hated the ease in which her classmate had been accepted when she, someone who had lived in Port Charles her whole life, still struggled to make friends. She hated that the other girl had gotten a chance to have a second family when she had wished for that very thing since she was old enough to understand the simple nursery rhyme which told young children to wish upon a star. And she hated Emily for the simple fact that the girl was a goody-goody, something she never had been and never would be, and her actions that night would prove it.

Glancing around the patio, she made sure that she was still undetected. Although the moon had been shining brightly that night, it was fall in upstate New York and a storm front was moving in, its clouds shielding her and the things around her from the moon's silver light. It didn't really matter though. The night before when her family had been on the Quartermaine estate attending the family's newly conceived and already dreaded Halloween party, Elizabeth had outlined a map of the place in her mind, and she knew where each and every target for her anger was located. Smiling smugly, she glanced up at the cloud-muted stars, shook out her rich, thick chestnut curls, and took a deep, steadying, preparing breath. It was time.

With a heave of her petite form, she lifted the wooden bat over her head and let it go sailing through the crisp night air until the movement was slowed and then practically stopped by contact. At first, she had considered simply using her foot, but her shoes were too new, too harsh and cruel in appearance to waste on such childish objects such as jack-o-lanterns, so she had opted for her next door neighbor's bat, stealing the kid's prized possession when he wasn't watching and laughing gleefully when she had heard him crying from her bedroom later that day when the sissy hadn't been able to find it. As she heard the pumpkin in front of her explode with the force of her blow, a grin of pure satisfaction lit up her beautifully mischievous face, and a wave of pleasure coursed through her, especially since she knew that particular pumpkin had been the brat Emily's favorite.

However, she couldn't dawdle for long; she had much too much work ahead of her. So, with the determination of the truly innocent, she set to work obliterating each and every jack-o-lantern decorating the Quartermaine property, knocking over other festive, holiday displays on her way around the house.

Big pumpkins, small pumpkins, it didn't matter. Whatever their size, they were destroyed, and she relished each and every splatter of squash and seeds along the house's various patios and verandas.

Orange pumpkins, partially green and not fully ripe pumpkins, the dark hid their true coloring, but her undiscriminating eyes wouldn't have cared either way. They had to go, one way or another.

Spookily carved or prettily painted, she smashed them one and the same, giggling quietly to herself as she continued along her way and watched the destruction occur. Sure, it would have been nice to leave some form of calling card that screamed her name, but she wasn't stupid, and she sure as hell wasn't naïve. She'd rather enjoy her triumph privately than spread the word and find herself nose deep in hot water where no more pranks could be pulled. After all, she had just legally turned a teenager, and, while this might be her first foray into vandalizing, it sure as hell wouldn't be her last. Lizzie Webber had a sick sense of payback and revenge, one that she was sure would be enacted again and very soon. Someone would annoy her, piss her off, or offend her, and then she would make sure they got their's, no matter if they realized she was the bringer of all things unpleasant or not. Anonymous or identified, it would still be sweet, and, with the delicious taste of revenge spreading through her small form, who needed chocolate birthday cake or a candle topped brownie? Certainly not her.

She was almost finished; there was just one pumpkin left on her imaginary map, and, as she felt her baseball bat slice through the air and land with a resounding slap against the holiday themed squash, she knew she wouldn't be able to leave yet. Although it might be smart to trust her instincts and believe in them, Elizabeth had to make sure that she had enacted complete and utter destruction to the Quartermaine family's decorations. Plus, she admitted with a devilishly cute roll of her eyes, she wanted to see the beauty of her hard work and carefully planning. So, with that thought in mind, she cradled the pumpkin juice stained bat under her left arm, reached around to her back pocket for the small flashlight she had stashed there, and turned the tiny light on, casting a soft illumination upon the shadowed and eerily silent patio outside the mansion's den.

Big mistake. Huge. Ginormous. Criminal career ending.

"Staying to gloat?"

There he was – Jason Quartermaine – all six foot, two inches of him, and Elizabeth had to curse her young body as it betrayed her in that moment, flushing not with embarrassment but with attraction. The man before her, seemingly wise and mature to her at the much older age of eighteen, was wearing only his pajamas, a leftover pair of Port Charles High gym shorts he had from when he was a student there, and she found she couldn't even mourn the fact that she had been caught, orange handed.

If revenge was a Hershey bar, Jason Quartermaine was a two pound brick of Belgian milk chocolate, and the thirteen year old found herself wanting to taste him.

The thought in and of itself surprised her. After all, she had never had a boyfriend before, not because boys weren't interested in her but because she found them all annoyingly immature and slightly repulsive with their greasy skin and braces, but, as she watched the older guy before her cock his head to the side and glare at her with the most profound looking cobalt eyes, she knew it was simply because she had been saving herself for this moment. She was now officially a teenager in every sense of the word.

When she still didn't answer him and continued to stare, his annoyance turned to worry and he took another step towards her, his brow furrowing in concern. "Are you alright?"

"Fine."

Her crisp tone has his eyes sparking with anger again before she even had a chance to blink her long, thick raven lashes a single time.

"Then answer my question," he demanded of her, stalking forward until she had to tilt her chin up to meet his gaze. "Why haven't you left yet? Are you staying to gloat? Are you going to camp out here all night and then watch as my little sister and grandmother come out, see your handiwork, and become crushed?"

She grinned snidely, surprising herself with her audacity. "It wasn't the plan, but, if you insist, I'm sure I could rearrange my schedule. After all, it sounds fun."

"What's wrong with you? You're just a kid," Jason dismissed with a perturbed scoff. "Shouldn't you be at home in bed clutching your favorite doll…or something?"

"I'll leave that to you," she returned smartly, earning herself another glare. With it, the idea coursed through her mind that the man before her had no idea how attractive he was when he glowered. She had a feeling Jason Quartermaine wasn't upset often, and damn that was a shame. He was even sexier when he was pissed off than when he was smiling. "So, if there's nothing else," she drawled out, turning around to walk off, "I'll just be…"

Before she had a chance to leave, her had her by the scruff of her shirt. "Not so fast, Elizabeth." She heard him pause and could almost imagine him tipping his head to the side in consideration. "That is your name, right?"

She shrugged noncommittally.

"Alright, be like that," he agreed, releasing her, "but that's what I'm going to call you all day tomorrow."

That got her attention, and she swiveled around quickly to observe him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You and me," the eighteen year old motioned between them. "We're going to spend all day together tomorrow cleaning this mess up that you made, and then, when we're done, you're going to help me go out and buy enough pumpkins to replace every single one you destroyed. Consider it your punishment."

She knew it was pointless, that he would never return the gesture, but she found herself flirting with him. "You know that sounds kind of kinky, Quartermaine. Not that I'm complaining, but…"

"You're a brat," he told her, lifting his hand to cover his mouth and hide his amusement. Elizabeth could have had a stroke then and there and died happy. She had made a much older and very sexy man laugh.

"What can I say? It's all a part of my charm."

"Do you need a ride home?"

"I'll call a cab," she answered, already starting to walk away. "See you tomorrow afternoon."

"Morning," Jason corrected her. "Tomorrow morning, Elizabeth."

As she disappeared back into the gardens surround the mansion, the thirteen year old brunette found herself, for the first time in her life, liking her name. Whenever anyone else said it, it came out as if her presence alone was a burden to them, but, with Jason, she heard something else, something of value. Sure, he might never see her the way she saw him. After all, she was technically jailbait, but maybe someday they could be friends, real friends which would be a first for her.

Actually, on closer inspection, the whole night had been a night of first. She had committed her first felony, smoked her first cigarette, snuck out of her house for the first and what would surely not be the last time, performed her first act of vandalizing, and she had formed her first crush. Already, her birthday was starting off with a bang, so maybe this year would be different than all the rest. Maybe she'd finally get what she had always wanted for her birthday – acceptance.

It wasn't love and it wasn't independence, but it was a start, and, at that point in her life, Elizabeth would take just about anything. Jason Quartermaine had no idea what he had just gotten himself into, and, luckily for her, it was too late for him to back out. With an added bounce to her step, she slipped off the gated property and made the long trek back to the main road where she could hail a cab, her second cigarette pursed between her two full lips, its cherry glow lighting her way back home.


	2. Silver'd in the Moon's Eclipse

Prompt #2: **If I can't see you, you can't see me.**

**Halloween Hookups**

**Silver'd in the Moon's Eclipse**

They – doctors, scientists, experts – agreed that there were five senses: sight, smell, taste, touch, and sound, but Jason Morgan didn't agree. If his instincts weren't a sense, then what were they? A combination of the agreed upon five or something bigger, something more important that not everyone had the ability to understand or recognize? It was a question he didn't know the answer to, and, really, the answer didn't matter to him. As long as his instincts continued to keep him alive, who was he to complain or question their nature?

Ever since his accident (if you really wanted to call it that; he preferred not to), he had relied upon his instincts to tell him what to do. They had helped him decide to move out of the Quartermaine mansion, had told him to go to work for Sonny Corinthos, and they had aided him when it came to making new acquaintances, telling him which people were worth his while and which weren't. Combined with his ability to think quickly on his feet and to make rational choices in the face of danger, they had also kept him alive more than once since he had changed his name, donned leather, and become his own man.

As he parked his motorcycle a few yards away from a bridge he had discovered on a late night ride, he became more aware of his surroundings and that questionable sixth sense – his instincts – started to tell him that something about the desolate place was different that night. It wasn't a threat, that much he could decipher immediately, but he also knew that he wasn't alone. Was it man or beast, friend or foe, and was it worth his time to stay and find out? It would be simple to climb back on his bike, speed away into the night, and find another place to be by himself to think and finally take a deep, cleansing breath, but Jason Morgan wasn't wired that way; he didn't run from the unknown, and he certainly wasn't chased away from a bridge he had started to think of as his own. After all, who else knew about the out of the way, abandoned estate? Who else, in today's world, took the time to simply be, letting every thing else fall to the wayside and disappear into the gentle, soothing sounds of running water in a gorge below and the whispers of wind in and out of the thick foliage of tree branches tangled together to form the canopy in the forest which had overtaken the once magnificent estate and the ruins that were left of it? No one but him…or, at least, that's what he had thought before tonight.

His simple, nondescript, functional yet unattractive watch read that it was two o'clock in the morning. Halloween had officially past, something Jason was glad for seeing as how the roads had been filled with reckless, drunk drivers all night, and, even though he didn't remember his life before as Jason Quartermaine, he had no ambition to go head long into a tree for the second time in his life. Along with the holiday, October had also come to a close, ushering in November. However, despite the dawning of the eleventh month of the year, Port Charles still remained relatively warm. Meteorologists claimed they were experiencing something called an Indian summer, so there had been no snow flurries yet or frost to kill the vegetation. Temperatures at night did drop into the forties, but the bleakness of winter had been delayed and life, though struggling, still flourished everywhere a person went.

Quietly, he continued his way through the estate, passing the bridge when he found no one there and wandering through the old, overgrown gardens, determined to find who or what had trespassed upon his private sanctuary. What had first alerted him to the other presence, he wasn't sure. The only sounds in the night were the delicate snapping of dried leaves and grass under his heavy boots; the only sight unnatural to the location was the milky puff of breath he released from his mouth, the warm moist air forming immediate condensation as soon as it joined and mixed with the cooler air of the surrounding evening. It wasn't a smell that had alerted Jason to another figure's company, and he certainly hadn't touched anything or anyone else. Instead, it was just an unexplainable sensation that he wasn't alone, and the sensation reinforced his idea that there was indeed a sixth sense.

His suspicions were confirmed when he came across another person sitting in the former gardens of the old estate. The other person was a female, but he could not decipher whether she was a woman or merely a girl. Though she appeared young, there was a wise, very world weary essence about her that told of a maturity often not found in people years older than he himself was. However, there were things about her he could determine.

She was petite, almost delicate looking, but, just by glancing at her, he knew it would be a very bad idea to tell her that. The stiff, almost proud rigidity of her back spoke of pride and self confidence, and Jason had a feeling that the young woman would not appreciate being considered delicate. In fact, by the arrogant tilt of her chin and the slight upturn of her small button of a nose, he could imagine her going off and punching him if he ever made such a comment to her…not that he would. These were his personal thoughts, thoughts that he would keep to himself.

Her skin was pale, so with the almost blue light of the moon washing over them, she appeared silver and ethereal in nature. From her profile, he could determine that she had full lips, soft, feminine features, and wide eyes which were lined with smoky, mysterious lashes, but he couldn't see the color of her eyes, and, for reasons he could not explain, he regretted the fact.

"Please don't come any further."

Her voice, tinged with a husky rasp that told him she smoked, made him pause in his observation. He hadn't realized she was privy to his presence, and it startled him that he could have become distracted enough to allow someone to surprise him, even if it was some wisp of a brunette no more dangerous than his elderly grandmother or kid sister.

"If that's what you want…"

"It is," she affirmed, nodding her head at the same time as she spoke. "That way you have deniability."

For the second time during their very short conversation, she had startled him, for he had not been expecting her to say such a thing. "Of what?"

"Of seeing me," the young woman responded. Pausing to reach inside her long, black coat, she withdrew a packet of Marlboro Lights, plucking one cigarette out of the box, lighting it, and inhaling once all before wordlessly offering him one.

"No thanks. I don't smoke."

"Suit yourself." A simple shrug of her shoulders told him she was neither offended by his refusal to join her nor by the almost disappointed tone of his voice.

Why he didn't like the idea of her smoking, he didn't know. After all, Jason Morgan had never been fully concerned about the welfare of others, so it wasn't as if he was simply looking out for her. His policy was always to each their own, but, apparently, even he acted different on a night when the rest of the world seemed to go slightly insane. Ridding the confusing thoughts from his head, he turned back to their former discussion. "Why would it matter if I saw you here or not? Are you in trouble? Are you running from something? The cops?"

She snorted – actually snorted at him. It had to be a first. "I don't think the cops concern themselves with rebellious teenage girls who sneak out of their homes when they're grounded, but that's just me." So she was a girl and not a woman, her comment told him. "I just needed to breathe, you know," she pressed. Her tone seemed almost pleading as if she needed someone to, for once, understand her. "I felt like I was suffocating, like the walls were closing in around me, and, if I didn't get out, I would be trapped." She laughed at herself, the sound rich and deep with scorn and self mockery. "You probably think I'm crazy, don't you?"

"No."

"Well then, congratulations, because you're the first one to ever understand Lizzie Webber. That's quite an accomplishment." She paused to take another inhale from her cigarette. "My parents have tried everything – punishment, bribery, counseling…" The young woman's words trailed off as she appeared to get lost in the past, in her own thoughts, and Jason simply allowed her the peace and privacy to do so, never once interrupting her. Finally, after several quite minutes, she returned to their conversation. "Anyway, if you don't come any further, then we technically didn't see each other, and you have deniability."

He chuckled softly and, for some unknown and rather confusing reason, found himself shoving his hands into his pants pockets and rocking on his feet. He wasn't cold, so there was no realistic cause of his actions, but they seemed second nature, almost necessary, so he went with it, never second guessing himself. "I don't think anyone will find all the way out here. In fact," he pushed, talking more to a stranger than he ever did with his friends and coworkers down at the docks, "I didn't think anyone else knew about this place."

"I like the statues."

And, true to her word, she was situated in front of one. "Is that one," he gestured towards the little girl forever captured in stone despite the fact that her back was to him and she couldn't see his movements, "your favorite?"

"She seems lonely," the brunette responded, sighing wistfully. "She's forced to stay here, she never smiles, and she has no one to talk to, no one to understand her. I can sympathize with that, so, yeah," she finally got around to answering his question, "she's my favorite. She's the one I sketch the most."

"You draw?"

"I try." The young woman's answer was ridden with self doubt and insecurities which surprised Jason because just moments before she seemed so confident, almost cocky. "It's a front," she went on to explain, "my attitude. If I make people think that they can't hurt me, I take away their power." It was as if she could read his thoughts, but instead of finding the experience strange or even uncomfortable, it was relaxing and almost nice to have someone he could talk to without having to defend his thoughts or actions. "My family doesn't understand my love for art. They're all practical people. I mean sure," she allowed, shrugging her shoulders, something he was realizing quickly was a habit of hers, "they support museums and the theatre, going to charity events there and giving their money, but they don't actually appreciate it, and they think drawing and painting are a big waste of my time. After all, I'm supposed to be a doctor or a nurse like everyone else in my family; there's no room for uniqueness or following ones dreams."

"No one should be able to tell you what to do," he found himself replying. Taking a step forward so he could be just that much closer to the younger woman, he pressed, "you have the ability to make all your own decisions. Your family can't tell you what kind of person you should be, and, if they try, leave. You don't need them."

"That's where you're wrong, Jason," she told him, standing up and making her way out of the garden, never once looking in his direction or allowing him to see her face. "I turn fourteen today, so, for four more years, I do have to listen to them, find a way to stay true to myself while still following their rules. Not all of us are adults yet, not all of us have motorcycles we can run away on. I'll see you around."

And, just like that, she disappeared into the night, rounding the corner of the garden and going back over the path he had taken to find her initially a mere fifteen minutes before. He knew for a fact that he had not mentioned his name, but somehow she had known it anyway; she had known him, but he had no idea who she was. It wasn't often that Jason Morgan found himself at a loss, and he knew right then and there that he didn't like it. No matter what, it didn't matter if it took years for him to meet up with 'Lizzie Webber' again, the next time he saw the haunting brunette, he would know who she really was. That was one thing he was damn sure of.

Taking the last few remaining steps to the stature she had been sitting in front of him, he sat down in her former spot to watch and observe the girl carved into stone before him, wanting to see, trying to see everything his companion had noticed, and, with her words ringing through his mind, he thought just maybe he would be able to see the statue through Lizzie Webber's eyes.

Apparently, All Hallow's Eve really did bring out the strange and unnatural in everyone and everything, including a rather intimidating and cynical dock worker.


	3. Like a Hell-Broth Boil and Bubble

Prompt #3: **A pumpkin and a princess.**

**Halloween Hookups**

**Like a Hell-Broth Boil and Bubble**

There were no ifs, ands, or tail feathers about it – the stork's water bowl had been seriously spiked the day he decided to deliver one Miss Elizabeth Imogene Webber to her rather depressed and regretful parents. Sure, by the grace of a few hours, she had managed to escape actually being born on the one day a year when it was acceptable…hell, preferable for all the wackos and jackos to show their true colors, but would it have been too much to ask to be born during February, or August, or, hell, she would have even taken June…despite the fact that a pearl really was a lame ass birthstone. But, NO!, of course her life couldn't be that simple. Instead, she was stuck having her birthday fall on the day after Halloween, making it oh so very tempting for her parents to go and do something as asinine as throwing her a Halloween themed surprise birthday party, a costumed one no less. Life really did suck.

As she rather limped into the park that evening due to her left heel having been snapped off during a particularly enthusiastic version of the _Electric Slide_ , she watched as her vision blurred with tears she absolutely refused to shed. After all, most girls would be grateful that their parents did such a thoughtful thing as throw them a birthday party, but Lizzie Webber was anything but grateful, especially when both her mother and her father, not to mention her two older siblings, knew she hated her birthday and surprise parties. And insult on top of insult, she really had no friends, so all the other teenagers who had been invited to her party had been there because either Sarah wanted them there or because they wanted Sarah.

But none of those things particularly bothered Elizabeth. No, what bothered her was the fact that the boy she liked, Travis Schuster, a junior she had AP art with, had come to her birthday party, ignored her the entire time, and eventually disappeared into a corner to make out with her sister. The worst part was Sarah knew that she liked him, but that had not stopped the blonde from having a little fun of her own.

So now, after enduring three hours of pure torture, here she was in the park alone on Halloween. Far off church bells sounded midnight, alerting her to the fact that she was officially fifteen, but the knowledge wasn't comforting. In fact, it simply made her even more frustrated, because here she was, magically a year older, and she didn't feel any wiser or more mature than she had the year before. Instead, what she felt was jealousy towards her old self, towards the fourteen year old Elizabeth who spent the night of her birthday the year before sitting before a statue in the middle of nowhere and talking to one very attractive and sweet Jason Morgan. Although she hadn't seen the older man since that night, for some reason, he was never very far from her thoughts, and she found herself wondering if fate would intervene and she would see him once again. It had been her birthday wish as she blew out the candles, and, even thought it was a rather misguided wish, she stood by it.

As she glanced up at the inky black sky to watch the first snow flake of the season fall down to land squarely on her nose, Elizabeth found herself wondering what Jason was doing that night. Was he alone and thinking about his life like she was, or was he with someone close to him, someone he cared about? She hoped it was the latter. After all, whether Quartermaine or Morgan, he had always been nice to her, a rarity in her life, and she wanted to return the favor to him.

She was so lost in thought, imagining the older man's features as she moved an invisible paint brush over a bare canvas in her mind, that she almost didn't hear the approach of footsteps from behind her. Almost. They were heavy but quick; the person obviously had a purpose in mind, and they reminded her of the sounds Jason's steps had made a year before when he had found her out by the old abandoned bridge. Without turning around to see for herself that he had indeed found her on the night when she needed a friend the most, Elizabeth greeted him.

"I knew you would find me. We seem to be making a habit out of this."

The laughter that was emitted from behind her though did not belong to the blue eyed, blonde haired man she had been expecting, and, while Jason Morgan was not a man to laugh very often, she knew the sound of his amusement would not be as sinister, as cruel, as callous as the laughter she had just heard. Before she could turn around to face the stranger though, an arm was wrapped around her neck, a gloved hand was positioned across her mouth, and she was lifted with ease off the park bench.

"Expecting someone else, Princess," the faceless man asked, whispering in her ear and making chills run down her spine. Whoever this person was they were definitely not Jason, and they were definitely not a friend.

However, as she struggled, kicking, flailing, and attempting to bite at her attacker, the fear she knew she was experiencing in that moment was pushed aside, and everything else around her became crystal clear.

The man who was dragging her through the park wasn't very tall and he wasn't over large or particularly strong, but, because of her petite frame, he could easily overpower her. His clothes were black and of poor quality for she could see with the aid of a lamppost's light the uneven stitching and threadbare fabric. The scent of fall, of dried leaves, death, and change assaulted her nostrils, and, combined with the putrid stench of her attacker's breath, it was definitely not the last thing Elizabeth Webber wanted to smell before she was hurt…or worse, but the thing she noticed the most was the irony of the situation.

Just as the stranger had called her 'Princess,' that was indeed what she was that evening. As a part of her surprise party, her parents had ushered her into a small room off to the side of the hall where she could change into the costume they had picked out for her – that of a princess. So, in the moment her body was slammed to the ground, the moisture of the night seeping through the thin dress she wore, Elizabeth realized this was her fairytale, her very own, fucked up, poignantly cruel fairytale. She had the dress, she had the crown, she had the prince who had turned back into a frog when he made out with her sister, and she even had the goddamned glass slipper that broke while she was trying to make it back home before midnight. There were just two things that were missing from her fairytale: a happily ever after and a pumpkin. After all, Cinderella needed a pumpkin for her carriage, and that was one thing definitely lacking from her nightmare.

The sound of fabric being torn brought her back to the present, and she noticed her attacker's hands literally ripping her dress off her body. Inch by inch, seam by seam, the fabric was being split in two. It was sad really, but it took that sight to make her fight harder. It made her kick her legs a little bit more forcefully, it made her ball her tiny hands into fists to pound them against the stranger's shoulders, and it made her finally succeed in biting through the leather glove covering her mouth so he would remove it from her lips and allow her the chance to scream for help, because, if nothing else, she was not going to return home with her rented costume ruined, for her parents would never let her live that one down. If she did, it would be – _Lizzie Webber strikes again. Why do you have to be so unappreciative Elizabeth? Your father and I tried to do something nice for you, and this is how you repay us? It's really a shame that you're not more like your sister. Sarah would never purposely destroy a costume we rented for her._

If nothing else, she would not give her parents the satisfaction of causing her pain even just one more time.

With renewed strength, a strength and determination she didn't even know she possessed, Elizabeth shoved against her attacker one last time, hoping, praying, begging for her efforts to be enough so that she could get away and live life another day, but, when she opened her eyes to see if she had actually managed to fight off her would-be-rapist, he wasn't there. In fact, no one was.

Crying and shivering, she carefully pushed herself up off of the ground, holding her ripped dress together as she searched around her. As her eyes adjusted to the night once again, she realized her birthday wish had come true. Jason Morgan had found her, but, instead of simply being there to listen this year, he had managed to, if not save her life, then to save her sanity, and, in that moment, she didn't care that he was standing with his back towards her holding a gun on the man who had attacked her, she didn't care that he was on his cell phone, demanding someone's presence in the park within five minutes, and she no longer cared that it was her birthday and she was a princess without a happily ever after, because what she had instead was both time and her Prince Charming. While Prince Charming might not have been Tyler Schuster, for Elizabeth in that moment, he was a leather jacket wearing, motorcycle driving alleged hit man for the mafia.

However, as she watched Jason move towards her, his eyes alight with both concern for her and anger towards the man who had tried to hurt her, she rationalized with herself that she would keep his part in her own little personal fairytale a secret…at least for now.

"Are you alright?"

It was too soon for words, so she managed to nod her head just once before the floodgates opened and her silent tears turned into frame wracking sobs only to be comforted when her friend swore under his breath and pulled her chilled, quaking, and bruised form against his much larger, warm one. Never had Elizabeth ever felt as safe as she did for those few brief moments in the park when Jason Morgan held her in his arms. However, the spell was broken much too soon for her liking, and he pulled away when the man he had called on his phone, someone he referred to as Johnny, arrived to take over the _situation_ from his boss.

"Come on," Jason directed her, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. Together, without another word, they walked out of the park, the paved pathways twisting and twining through the dying foliage as snow fell gently around them. As they reached the gate at the entrance of the park, he paused and moved them towards a parked bike. "Here," Jason handed her a helmet, practically forcing it into her hands. "I'll give you a ride, okay? You really shouldn't be walking out alone this late at night. Do your parents even know that you're not at home?"

She knew he was waiting for an answer, but, despite her best efforts to focus, to form a logical response to his queries, she just couldn't do it. Instead, she tilted her head back, looked her friend in the eye, and started to laugh.

"What," Jason demanded, immediately becoming worried again. "What is it; what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Elizabeth reassured him, managing to talk through her giggles. "For the first time tonight, everything's alright. You're here, it's after midnight on Halloween so technically it's my birthday, and I've found my pumpkin."

His words were unsure, hesitant. "Your pumpkin?"

She nodded, still laughing, and pointed towards his motorcycle. "My pumpkin. It might not be a horse drawn carriage, but it looks like a hell of a lot more fun."

"Elizabeth did you hit your head? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?"

"No, I'm okay." When his gaze narrowed in disbelief, she pressed. "Really, I promise. Besides a few bruises, I'm physically okay. I just…thanks for finding me, Jason."

He simply nodded his head and helped her unto the back of his bike. As they drove away from the park, her arms wrapped securely around him, she wasn't sure if his silence was due to the fact that he didn't know what to say or if the words were really not necessary, but, really, did it even matter? She was alive, because of Jason, to think about it another day.

A second chance, a girl could get worse things for her birthday.


	4. Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble

Prompt #4: **"You can be a king or a street sweeper, but everybody dances with the Grim Reaper." Robert Alton Harris  
**

**Halloween Hookups**

**Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble**

The idea of a home was something Jason Morgan found himself contemplating often. It had been more than two and half years since he had miraculously woken up from a comma, no longer the Quartermaine Golden Boy, but still he was unsure where he belonged. Sure, he had made a life for himself, but he didn't have a family in the traditional sense, he didn't form too many connections or roots anywhere which would bind him to a certain location, and he didn't attach importance to material possessions, but, like every person inevitably did, he found himself wanting a home.

His room above Jake's was a place to sleep, a place to grab a quick shower and change his clothes after a hard day's work, and, although Sonny often tried to talk him into an apartment at the Towers, he knew such a setup would feel more like a prison instead of a home. Temporarily, he could find solace and comfort on the back of his bike. With the wind rushing past his face at speeds pushing or past one hundred miles per hour, he could feel at home with himself and his surroundings, but, as soon as he climbed off his motorcycle, as soon as that rush was over, his sense of belonging, of being home disappeared.

The fact that he was having this thought in and of itself was a surprise to Jason. Although no one could say that he wasn't a contemplative, intelligent person, he tended to shy away from personal introspection and focus more upon facts and figures. He liked things that were concrete, unchangeable, things that could be depended upon like history and geography. Sonny liked the theoretical, and that was why he was the boss and Jason was his right hand man, and, on a night when all he wanted to do was forget about his responsibilities and obligations, the last thing he needed was to get lost in his own mind.

What he needed was a bike ride, was speed.

What he needed was a quiet game of pool and an ice cold bottle of his favorite beer.

What he needed was to go to Jake's, find a willing partner, and lose himself in some nameless, faceless sex.

With a plan of action in mind and newfound resolve, the enforcer quickened his steps across the docks as he made his way towards the alley where his motorcycle was parked. It would be easier to park it next to the warehouse, but that was too predictable, and, for a man whose very life depended upon keeping his enemies on their toes, predictability was a liability he couldn't have. So, he parked his bike in out of the way, unexpected places when he was working, and the inconvenience simply became habit.

Two steps at a time, he ascended the wooden stairs, his thoughts focused upon his next actions instead of watching and paying attention to his current ones. If he would have been aware of his own distraction, he would have known he was leaving himself open to attack, but Jason Morgan was a man on a mission, a man who was in desperate need of completing said mission, and even he was fallible once in a great while.

"So you're just going to run past me and not even say hello? I know we don't see each other very often, but I thought we were friends."

He knew that voice, would recognize it anywhere despite the fact that he had only heard it twice in his relatively short life, and, with the sound of it, all his previous plans disappeared. Pivoting on the heel of his boot, he turned around, regarded the petite brunette on the bench below him for several silent seconds, and made his way, this time slowly, back down the stairs and to her side.

"Hello, Elizabeth."

She smiled, a warm, almost infectious grin towards him, and patted the empty space beside her, wordlessly requesting him to join her. "Happy Halloween," she started to greet him but then stopped, glanced at her watch, shrugged her shoulders, and returned her gaze to his. "Or Happy Birthday to me, I guess, since it's now officially November 1st. I must have been too lost in thought to hear the church bells this year. Last year, I remember hearing them, but," she paused momentarily while scrunching her forehead in consideration, "I guess I'm not the same girl I was last year at this time, am I? Things have changed; I've changed. What about you?"

Having a hard time keeping up with her rapidly fired words and not quite understanding what she had asked, he cocked his head to the side and observed her closely. "Are you alright?"

A flippant, almost dismissive wave of her slender hand was the only response he received. "Aren't you going to answer my question?"

"What about me?"

She laughed, the rich, deep chuckle washing a warmth over them that the cold night air did not grant. However, despite her apparent amusement, Jason wasn't sure if she was actually happy or pretending to be. That, for the moment though, could wait.

"Have you changed as well?"

"Not really," he denied, rubbing the side of his face as he thought carefully about how to respond. "I'm sure something is different about me, but I don't pay too much attention."

"I think you're wrong," Elizabeth argued with him. "I think you pay more attention to the small things in life than any other person I know. However, you don't pay attention to yourself." Sighing, she took a sip of her drink before twisting around on the bench to face him and continuing her explanation. "But you have changed, Jason. I can see it when I look at you. Physically, except for a few more faint scars on your face and longer hair, you look the same, but, when a person takes the time to really see you, when they look into your eyes, you're different. You seem almost lonely."

"I'm not lonely right now," he pointed out with a small grin.

"No, I guess you're not, but that's because we've always been able to understand each other." Quirking her right brow, she watched him closely before inquiring, "are you happy, Jason?"

With anyone else, he would have ignored the question, but, besides knowing that she was too stubborn to let that slide, he also knew he could answer her truthfully. With a shrug of his shoulders, he admitted, "I don't know. What about you though, Elizabeth? Are you happy?"

"No," she denied quickly, instantly frowning. "I'm not happy. Don't get me wrong," she was quick to reassure him, "I'm not miserable, and I'm not depressed, and I'm certainly not sad either, but I'm not sure if I've ever been happy. I'll get these brief flashes of contentment, but that's basically it." She paused in her confession to take another sip of her hot beverage before she started to giggle. "That sounds so jaded, doesn't it? Look at us," she motioned between them. "Here we are, two relatively talented individuals who have both, one way or another, been given a second chance at life, and, instead of living it to fullest, we go through the motions, do what we need to in order to get by, and bury our unhappiness underneath duty and pride."

"You know, for someone I've only now seen three times in my life, you sure know a lot about me," the enforcer commented. Although there was a questioning nature to his remark, he didn't expect her to answer it. After all, he seemed to know her just as well for no explainable reason.

"Well, that depends upon the way you look at things," the recently turned sixteen year old beside him stated. "Jason Quartermaine met Lizzie Webber once."

"Oh, really, and how did that go?"

She laughed, actually blushing. "I flirted with him," Elizabeth admitted. "I was thirteen, thought myself to be a badass, and I flirted with someone who I knew by reputation alone." He scrunched his face up in question, wanting to know more about the encounter, and she must have sensed it, because she continued. "I hated Jason Quartermaine's sister, Emily, so I trespassed unto the Quartermaine property, smashed all their pumpkins, and Jason Quartermaine caught me." Giggling at the memory, she pushed on. "He demanded that I come back the next day to help him clean up the mess and replace all the jack-o-lanterns I destroyed, but I never heard from him again, and then the next year I met you."

Realization dawned. "So, that's how you knew my name when we met at the bridge." She nodded her head in response. "You know, I tried to do some digging, asked around trying to figure out who you were and how you could have known me, but no one had any idea. I'm glad you told me."

"I didn't want to say anything at first, because I wasn't sure how you would react to the information." Lowering her voice and averting her deep blue eyes from his crystal clear ones, Elizabeth explained, "I had heard through the grapevine that you didn't like people comparing you to who you used to be, and I didn't want to be another person who made you feel like you were a disappointment." Brightening, she glanced back up at him. "Besides, I kind of like Jason Morgan. He tends to come in handy sometimes."

"Oh, he does?" Despite himself, the enforcer laughed softly at her comment.

"Yes," the brunette supplied, "he seems to have perfect timing, knows exactly when I need a friend the most."

"Well, I like talking to you."

"The feeling is mutual, Jason," she returned with a smile. "However, I'm not so easily distracted. You didn't answer my question." When he tilted his head closer to her in silent query, she reiterated her inquiry from before. "Are you happy?"

"I like what I do, I have friends, I have my bike, and I enjoy playing pool at Jake's."

"Yeah, but those things aren't enough to make a person content," Elizabeth argued.

And just like that, he found himself confessing to her the thoughts he had been battling with earlier that evening. "I guess I wish I had a home. I want to belong somewhere."

"You want to be loved," she realized. Even though she didn't say it, Jason could see her understanding in her sympathetic gaze. However, she didn't make him feel pitied. In fact, he knew, in that moment, that she felt the same way he did, and, in return, he wanted to somehow find a way to comfort her.

"For now, friendship is enough."

To that, Elizabeth smiled before scooting closer to him and leaning against his side. For several quiet minutes, they sat in silence before she started talking again. "You know, of anywhere, I feel the most at home here down on the docks. I like the stillness. No one really bothers you here, because they all mind their own business, and I'm left to my own thoughts and the gentle sound of the lake lapping against the wooden pilings. It's nice, peaceful."

"And also dangerous," he added.

"Don't worry, Jason, I'm being careful. After what happened last year…" Her words trailed off but not before he could hear the shadows of fear tinge the soft strains of her voice with a sense of panic and dread at the haunting memories. "I don't take any chances. I have mace in my purse, a whistle on my key chain, and a cell phone programmed to call the cops upon voice demand in my coat pocket. I won't let anyone hurt me like that again."

Although he felt like ringing her parents' necks for not paying closer attention to her and blindly allowing her to constantly sneak out of the house, he had never told someone how to live their life, and he sure as hell wasn't going to start doing so now with Elizabeth. "Just be careful, okay? And, if you need me…"

"I know," she sighed out. As a small cloud formed from her exhaled breath, the enforcer caught the distinct scent of alcohol from the sixteen year old.

"Have you been drinking?"

"A little bit," she answered, shrugging her small frame in an uncaring manner while still not lifting her head from his shoulder. "I put some rum in my hot chocolate. At this point, after everything that has happened to me, alcohol would be the last thing that could kill me. Sometimes it helps to dull the edge, to make me feel less unnerved and unsure of myself."

He wanted to tell her that it wasn't a good idea, that drinking would only end up probably hurting her more, but he wasn't going to judge her, and she obviously wasn't drunk. For now, he would let it pass. After all, it was late, it was her birthday, and it was the first anniversary of the night any last shred of innocence she had managed to maintain over the years was stolen from her. However, even if he wasn't around her that often, Jason knew he would now have to make sure she was always alright, not because he worried about her or because he pitied her but because she was his friend and he was hers.

It wasn't much, and he sure as hell didn't feel at home yet, but, in that moment, he also didn't feel quite as alone anymore.


	5. Then the Charm is Firm and Good

Prompt #5: **"When choosing between two evils, I always like to try the one I've never tried before." Mae West  
**

**Halloween Hookups**

**Then the Charm is Firm and Good**

How was it even possible to miss someone so much it literally hurt when you had only seen them a handful of times your whole life?

Just like she always did late at night on Halloween, just before the clock approached the next day, Elizabeth Webber found herself thinking about one very attractive and yet, unfortunately, much older Jason Morgan. It didn't matter what she was doing, he was always on her mind, and, just when she had finally managed to forget about him, he would sneak up on her consciousness so quickly, she couldn't prepare herself for the desperate attack of loneliness the thought of him provoked within her. She had thought she would get used to a Port Charles without her friend in it, but things never were that simple for her. Just when they had admitted there was a bond between them, he had to leave, disappearing into the night on an errand for his boss that, so far, had lasted 362 days, fourteen hours, and an odd assortment of minutes that was constantly escalating, and she really, really missed him.

She found herself drawing his face more than any other subject. Seeing him take shape on her sketch paper was better than nothing, but it also left her feeling empty because no drawing, no portrait could perfectly capture the right angle of his slightly crooked nose or the startling color of his aquamarine eyes. Even a mundane chore like washing clothes reminded her of her friend, because, for the few brief moments in her life when she had been allowed close enough to the blonde enforcer to take in and memorize his scent, he had always smelled like a unique combination of leather, coffee, and clean, a clean that could only come from freshly laundered clothes not neutralized or covered up with cologne as so many people tended to do. But not Jason, and maybe that was why she had donated all her expensive, designer perfume to a local charity. Her parents had been furious with her for that, but their disappointment and rage were nothing new.

Sighing, Elizabeth pushed aside all other ideas and memories but those that made her feel at peace, leaving her mainly with thoughts about her traveling friend. Positioned on a rather uncomfortable bench at Vista Point, a place Jason had recommended she go and see, she let her gaze wonder across the night skyline, observing the stars and noticing that they seemed brighter, more cheerful away from the city, the clouds and their never ending slow dance with the moon, and the warm, comforting glow of the thousands of lights illuminating Port Charles. Watching the town she lived in from afar and seeing all its flaws hidden away behind the murky shadows of the dark, the soon-to-be seventeen year old found herself wondering where Jason was that night.

Was he, too, sitting quietly somewhere alone thinking about her? Although the desire for him to have her on his mind was foolish, she reprimanded herself, she knew it would be difficult for either of them to ever get through the holiday without reflecting upon the other. For some reason, their lives had crossed paths several years before and were now seemingly irrevocably connected. She liked the permanent bond they shared, and she hoped Jason did as well.

However, thinking of him thinking about her only brought the petite brunette more questions. If he was picturing her in his mind and remembering the moments they had shared together, where was he doing so? With every place he had been, she had received a post card – Montana, Costa Rica, The Galapagos Islands, Morocco, Sweden, Thailand, and, most recently, Puerto Rico, but her last note from her friend had arrived months ago, and she feared something had gone wrong or, more likely, he had forgotten about or gotten tired of her in his life. The only thing that reassured her of the fact that Jason still cared was that sometimes, and not very often, she would sense someone's presence watching her.

Normally, the sensation, especially after what had happened to her the night she had turned fifteen, would frighten her, but whoever it was she sometimes sensed made her feel secure and safe. Although the idea was ridiculous, the stranger seemed to be an extension of Jason in her mind, and she liked to think of him as a friend of a friend keeping the blonde enforcer's place in her life warm for when he returned. Maybe it was because she didn't want to make her shadow feel uncomfortable or, more likely, perhaps she was afraid her silly, childishly romantic ideas that the man was there on Jason's behalf would be crushed, but, whatever the reason, Elizabeth never approached the guard, and she certainly didn't ask him for a reason to explain his presence in her life. It was one of the first times during her life when not knowing the truth was preferable.

However, even with the sentinel always there to make sure she went unharmed, she still missed Jason. Since the moment he had saved, if not her life, then her sanity in the park exactly two years before to that very night, he had come to represent in her mind, perhaps unjustifiably, her place of peace and contentment, and, as another birthday approached, mocking her with the fact that she was even more alone now at seventeen than she ever had been before, she really needed to feel close to the older man anyway she possibly could. So that was why she was there at Vista Point that night wrapped up securely in a thick, protective sleeping bag.

Although it was cold out, the snow that had been falling the whole week had been replaced with a chilling, dreary rain. The woods surrounding her and their canopy of ever changing and dying leaves shielded her from the fat droplets of moisture to the best of their ability, but, still, an umbrella was required, so, while one gloved hand rested underneath her waterproof blanket clutching the postcards Jason had sent her throughout the past year, the other held on to her large beach umbrella and managed to keep it from being carried away by the wind over the cliffs to the swirling, rough waters beneath the lookout point.

It really was a stupid way to spend one's birthday, especially since she had been battling a cold for the past month, but Elizabeth didn't care. Hell, if she got sick, then she'd be able to stay home from school, and, in her mind, that would be a great birthday present. Something else that she would have appreciated at that moment was a cup of hot chocolate laced with some kind of strong, alcoholic beverage, but she recalled Jason's, if not disapproving, then at least disappointed reaction to her drink of choice on her last birthday, and she had decided to forgo it that year. Even if he couldn't be there with her, she still wanted to make him proud of her.

"You really are determined to get yourself killed, aren't you?"

With the sound of the deep, masculine voice behind her, the young artist turned around on the bench and stood up on her knees, the hands she had been using to hold on her to belongings lifting up and around the recent arrival's neck in an embrace so tight, she feared he wouldn't be able to breathe. Still though, she couldn't bring herself to let go of him.

"You made it," she gushed, and, in that moment, all her darker, more somber and depressed thoughts floated away. Jason was there, he hadn't forgotten about her or her birthday, and, just like the years previous, they would spend the evening together.

When he managed to pull away from her vice like hug, he nodded towards the edge of the cliff. "You lost your umbrella."

"It doesn't matter. All that matters is that you're here. Thank you."

"I didn't do anything, Elizabeth."

"Maybe you don't think you did, but I do," she argued. Finally remembering that they were both being attacked by the natural elements, she gestured hurriedly for him to come around and join her on the bench. "Here," she suggested, unzipping her sleeping bag.

"No, I'm alright," the blonde contended, turning down her offer to share the blanket. "The cold really doesn't bother me."

"You're not invincible, Jason. Even you can catch a cold, and I'm not going to be the one to cause it, so quit fighting me and get under the damn blanket already. Besides," she added cheekily while gracing him with a crooked smile, "it's my birthday, so that means you have to do whatever I tell you to do."

He chuckled. "Oh it does, does it?" Even though he continued to argue with her, he listened, and, within moments, the two of them were cuddled together underneath the large cover. However, while they had been rearranging themselves, she had noticed the older man holding a small box in his far hand.

"What's that," the soon-to-be seventeen year old inquired. Beaming up at him, she pressed, "did you get me a present?"

"It's nothing much."

"Jason, I don't care what it is. Just the fact that you thought to get me anything at all is the best present anyone could ever give me."

"Well, you can't have it until it's officially your birthday, but while we wait," he proposed, "why don't you tell me everything you've been up to while I was gone."

"That's not going to take very long."

The enforcer shrugged, making his next words seem almost nonchalant. "That's alright. Even if not very much has happened, I know how much you like to ramble, so we'll be here for a while."

"That's not true," Elizabeth shrieked. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't hold back her giggles as she punched him playfully in the arm. "I do not ramble. Everything I say is important and necessary."

He silenced her defense with one statement. "I like your ramblings."

And, just like that, they settled into easy conversation. While she told him about the various fights she had gotten into with her family, he shared stories about the foreign lands he had traveled to while away from Port Charles. When she eagerly explained all the art projects she was currently working on, he described the picturesque sites he had seen in places she could, at the point, only dream of going to. And, when she confessed that she had missed him while he was gone, he returned the sentiment.

"But you're back for good now, right?"

When Jason didn't immediately answer her, the brunette knew his response was not the one she desired to hear. "Actually, no," he admitted regretfully. "Sonny, my boss, needs me to go back. In fact, I leave tomorrow."

"Was there something wrong here? Is that why you had to return so quickly?"

"Everything's alright," he reassured her. "I actually," he paused to rub his face in a distracting manner. When he started talking again, it was the first time Elizabeth had ever heard the older man mumble or sound shy. "I came back to see you, to spend a few hours with you on your birthday." She knew it was the wrong thing to do, that it would only confuse him, but she couldn't help it. As the meaning of his admission washed over her, the artist burst into tears. "What is it? Did I do something wrong," he quickly asked her, unsure of himself.

"Absolutely not," she declared emphatically, quickly wiping away her tears. "This…you being here, it's exactly what I wanted, what I would have wished for if I had candles to blow out."

"Oh," Jason smiled in relief. His confidence bolstered by her words, he lifted the small package from beside him and set in on her lap. "Well, in that case, I think it's time you open your gift." As she carefully lifted the lid of the box, he continued. "Normally, I'm not one to give presents. I don't really understand the idea behind them, because, if I want to give someone something, why can't I just do it for no particular reason? But, anyway," he shook off his musings, "I haven't seen you in a year, and I don't know when I'll get to see you again, so, if I was going to get you something, now was the time to do so."

Admittedly, Elizabeth only heard some of his words, but, as she gently pulled the chocolate cupcake with a lone candle out of the bakery box, she realized that Jason Morgan, feared mob hit man, was rambling. Apparently, she was rubbing off on him.

"You've never said anything, but I remember you drinking hot chocolate last year, so I figured you liked sweet things."

"I do," she confessed, "the sweeter the better."

Retrieving a lighter from his pocket, he lit the lone candle. "Well, since I'm already here, you're going to have to make a different wish."

And that she did. Closing her eyes, she gently blew against the flame, puckering her full lips and extinguishing the candle in one delicate breath. Upon opening her eyes, she turned and found Jason watching her closely.

"Happy Birthday, Elizabeth."

In that moment, she knew she had two choices, and, with them, she was damned if she did and damned if she didn't. She could kiss her friend, open up both the proverbial can of worms that legally should remain closed for another year and her heart to the risk of getting hurt, or she could forget her desire for the man sitting across from her, forget her attraction. Throwing caution to the wind, she followed her instincts, leant across the small space separating them, and allowed her lips, for the first time, to touch those of the man who continually seemed to save her, whether from hidden dangers or merely from herself. And, with that one kiss, her seventeenth birthday was complete. She could ask for nothing more.


	6. Swelter'd Venom Sleeping Got

Prompt #6: **Violence and Bloodshed  
**

**Halloween Hookups**

**Swelter'd Venom Sleeping Got**

It one was one thing to avoid Elizabeth Webber; after all, their lives existed on completely opposite yet parallel planes, never intersecting, but it was a whole different story forgetting about the blue eyed, brunette pixie of a woman. And, yes, despite her age, that's how Jason saw her: a woman. Unfortunately, the law didn't quite agree with him.

While she represented to him everything that was pure and good in the world, something he would never confide in her out of fear she would murder him in his sleep for such thoughts, he considered himself as someone who did not deserve her. If he were honest with himself, he would have to admit that he was nothing more than a criminal who had a very rich boss with an excellent attorney who would get him out of the trouble most criminals had to do hard time for, and, while it didn't necessarily bother him that he was involved in organized crime, that he occasionally dabbled in the infrequent case of torture, and that he was a murderer many times over, it was a whole different story to bring that world into Elizabeth's life. So, he stayed away from her.

For the first five months after their kiss, a kiss that, no matter what he did, he couldn't stop thinking about, it was easy to avoid her, for he was on assignment in the Caribbean, far away from the temptation his seventeen year old friend presented. There, in Puerto Rico, he could think about the way her lashes fluttered rapidly before finally closing as their lips met, and no one would be the wiser. There, in Puerto Rico, he could grin smugly to himself as he recalled the sigh of pure bliss and contentment Elizabeth released after they both finally pulled away from what he knew had to be their first and, ultimately, last kiss, and, with so many miles between them, he didn't feel as guilty for his actions. And, in Puerto Rico, where the violence was relatively tame, Jason could entertain the idea of actually seeing the artist again, of perhaps being with her in the future after both the law and they, too, decided they were ready to try and be more than just friends, but that desire had been quickly extinguished by one phone call from his boss, demanded his return back to Port Charles less than half a year after he had left.

There was a new enemy, one that, as winter approached, still had not been taken care of, and the town where both he and Elizabeth resided was now a cesspool of violence, led by a man who did not take into account the fact that women and children were innocents in their war, and, so, he had pushed the seventeen old away, claiming the distance between them was for her own safety when really, if he was being truthful with himself, it was for his own sanity. It was one thing to risk his own life, that Jason could handle, but he would not be able to sit by and watch as Elizabeth was hurt once again or even worse.

Of course she had argued. She had tried to tell him that they could simply meet at night in out of the way places like the bridge and Vista Point. Surely, she reasoned, his enemies would not suspect him being friends with her, so she could easily fly underneath their radar and still remain a part of his life. He could finally start taking her on real bike rides, and, after Jake's closed for the night, she would sneak out of her house and come to the place where he lived so he could teach her how to play pool. Her ideas had been tempting, too tempting, and he had almost caved, allowing her naïve logic and reason to persuade him, but he had been in the business long enough to know that, while a person could hide for so long, they couldn't outrun the mafia forever. With that thought in mind, he had turned her down and ordered her, something she did not react pleasantly to, to stay away from him.

After several _chance_ encounters on the docks and around town at various diners and coffee shops, Jason had realized that the seventeen year old was flaunting his direction and making sure she saw him anyway. In response, he had been forced to change his routine, to work different hours, to find new places to eat and buy his always strong and always black coffee in the mornings, and, by summer, their lives had been completely disconnected.

He never stopped thinking about her though, worrying about her, and, as her birthday approached, signaling the fact that she would soon be a legal adult and not some forbidden but yet oh so tempting child of seventeen, she seemed to literally haunt him. He saw her everywhere. When he was walking down the street, every petite brunette, in his mind, was Elizabeth. Suddenly, he found himself, for some inexplicable reason, craving hot chocolate…and he didn't even like the teeth rotting concoction. Any bench, whether it was at Vista Point or not, reminded him of her last birthday which, in turn, would make him recall in vivid detail the kiss they had shared, and then, by that point, he was lost. His work suffered, his friends and coworkers avoided him, and he was starting to doubt his own ability to do what was necessary and stay away from her. Hell, even a damn commercial on the radio about snow shovels being on sale at the local hardware store made him think of Elizabeth, because, as he had pulled away from the kiss they had shared a year before, he had allowed himself a moment to truly absorb everything about her and become lost in her very essence, an essence, he had learned that night, that reminded him of the purity and cleanliness of snow.

At that point, he had realized he needed to take action. No matter what, he had to find a way to get one five foot, two inch, brown haired, blue eyed, adorably cynical Elizabeth Webber out of his head once and for all, and what better way to do so than to lose himself in someone else?

For the past week, he had fallen into a routine. Get up. Get dressed. Find some drinkable coffee. Go to work. Ignore everyone and everything, especially if they pertained to or reminded him of Elizabeth. Eat something. Go back to Jake's. Sit in the bar, drink beer, and observe. Find a woman who was small and petite, who was brunette, and take her back up to his room and fuck her senseless.

Would other people take issue with his sexually deviant behavior, would they tell him that trying to replace one woman with many others was not only going to be an in vain behavior but also irresponsible and downright disgusting? Yeah, they probably would, but Jason Morgan didn't give a flying shit. He did what he wanted, when he wanted, and he sure as hell didn't think about the consequences. Sex was sex. He didn't lie to the women he took to his bed, he didn't promise them more than one night and then go back on his word, and he made it clear from the very start that they would be simply using each other, so, if they got hurt in the end, it was their own damn fault. The only problem was that his plan was not working.

With every replacement he slept with, they only made him want Elizabeth more, they only made him think of the one thing he wanted most in the world but couldn't have even more than he was before his promiscuous behavior had started, and, as he pounded himself into his conquest for the night, another nameless, faceless diminutive, dark haired woman, all he could think about was the fact that Elizabeth's skin was softer, more delicate, and a lighter shade of alabaster. All he could think about what the feel of her lips underneath his, the way she had melted into him and embraced everything he was and everything he wanted to be so effortlessly.

"I know we normally wait until we run into each other on Halloween, but I couldn't wait this year, and I know that I'm supposed to be staying away from the _danger_ , but I figured you'd let me make this one teeny-tiny exception seeing as how we decided last year you have to do whatever I say on my birthday, so here I am!"

And, as he reached completion, his orgasm mere thrusts away, all the enforcer could hear was the sound of her cheerful, light voice washing over him in a wave of warmth and acceptance.

"And don't you dare think you can pretend you're not here, Jason Morgan," the voice he believed to be inside his head teased, "because that really sweet lady downstairs told me you were in."

Okay, so that got his attention, because no one but Elizabeth would EVER refer to Jake as sweet and be able to get away with it. His actions stilled, and he pulled completely out of the woman leaning over in front of him.

"Okay, ready or not," the warning was given with a few short yet distinct knocks upon his door, and Jason hurriedly threw on his previously hastily discarded jeans. "I'm coming in!"

With no other notice and no more time to prepare himself or get the woman who was currently naked and trying to cover herself up with a sheet out of his bed, Elizabeth Webber, fresh-faced, exuberant, almost eighteen Elizabeth Webber, was standing in his room, and the blonde could do nothing but watch as all her happiness and excitement fell away with one glance at his appearance.

"I'm so sorry," she rushed to apologized, spinning around in her heels to leave. "I shouldn't have…this was a mistake." As she reached the entranceway to his room, she went to leave, but his hand reaching out and gently taking hold of her arm stopped her.

"Elizabeth," he begged, "please wait." Swiveling his head around, he glared at the stranger in his bed. "Get out," he yelled, not caring that he was both sounding and acting like an insensitive jerk. Apparently, the woman wanted out of the situation just as badly as he wanted her to simply disappear, because she grabbed her clothes and slipped out into the hall with only his sheet on. Closing the door behind the other woman, Jason ran a distracted and angry hand through his rumpled hair in an attempt to buy himself some much needed time to think.

She looked beautiful, Elizabeth did. She had curled her hair and left most of it down, flowing freely across her back. He loved her hair, because it was just as wild and untamed as she was, and he knew it would be just as soft to the touch as her lips had been. She had also worn makeup, not a lot he was glad to see, for he didn't want her to hide behind a painted on mask that didn't suit her, but just enough to highlight all the features of her face he found impossible to forget. She wore a dress, an innocently seductive dress that, in that moment, he knew she had picked out and purchased just for him. With everything combined, he had never seen anything as perfect as the soon-to-be eighteen year old was in that moment.

"You look," he paused to clear his suddenly dry throat, "really nice."

Whispering in response and avoiding his gaze, she murmured, "thanks."

Not knowing what else to say, he followed her example and attempted to apologize. "I'm sorry about this." Gesturing towards his room with his eyes alone, he let the statement hang there.

"It's alright. You did nothing wrong. I was the one who showed up here unannounced after we haven't seen each other or even talked to one another in months. I should have called ahead or…not have come at all."

"No, I'm glad that you came," Jason quickly reassured her. "Like you said, we always spend your birthday together."

"Yeah, but you were obviously busy, and I don't want to be a burden to you."

"Elizabeth," he turned to face her completely, lifting a hand to cradle her jaw in his grasp, "you could never be a burden to me. I was going to come and find you tonight," he confessed. "I hope you believe that."

"I do," she nodded along with her words, tears filling her eyes that she stubbornly refused to release, "but I get it. You had…things to do first."

Sighing in frustration, he dropped his hand from her face. "Aw, Elizabeth…"

"No, I understand," she argued, taking a step back away from him. "We're friends, that's it, and you have needs that I can't fulfill. After all, you're a man, and I'm just a little girl, right?"

He knew that she was lashing out at him because she was hurt and embarrassed, but the words still stung as they hit their target, particularly because they both knew what she said had some truth behind it. At first, it had been her age that had kept him away from her, and, even though his distance was now due to the violence that surrounded his life, her innocence and purity were somehow mixed up in his nobility as well, so he knew he couldn't deny her claim. Instead, he tried to change the subject.

"So, what do you wan to do? I could throw everyone out downstairs and we could have that game of pool you were always talking about before."

"Thanks, but no thanks," she declined his offer.

"A ride?"

Finally meeting his gaze, her dark, indigo eyes flashing with anguish, she said, "I think I just want to go home. It's late, and I have school tomorrow. You know how important senior year is, especially if I want to get a scholarship to a good art school, or, well," she paused, cocked her head to the side, and remembered his past, "maybe you don't. Anyway, no matter what, I don't need my parents finding out that I snuck out of the house again, so I really shouldn't be gone too long. Besides, you're busy…"

"I'm never too busy for you, Elizabeth."

She went on as if he had never spoken. "…and I have things to do – homework, I need to shower and change out of this ridiculous dress, there's my fish that needs to be fed."

"You don't have a pet fish," he point out.

Ignoring him, the brunette pivoted around on her high heels and went to walk out of his door and, he feared, out of his life, too. "See you around, Jason…or not." The last two words were whispered quietly under hear breath, but the enforcer heard them anyway.

Just as she rounded the corner of his doorway, he heard the small clock he kept by his bedside emit an almost inaudible peal to alert him to the fact that it was midnight and officially November 1st.

"Happy Birthday, Elizabeth."

His best wishes fell onto silence though, for he was too late; she was already gone.


	7. Finger of Birth-Strangled Babe

Prompt #7: **Hey kids, wants some candy?  
**

**Halloween Hookups**

**Finger of Birth-Strangled Babe**

Someone was following her, and it sure as hell wasn't reassuring like it had been the year before when Jason had a man assigned watching her. No, this time, Elizabeth had no idea why she had not one shadow that night, the one created by the full moon looming above, but two, and she wasn't going to pause on her way home, invite said shadow up for a midnight snack, and ask him what he wanted. She might be slightly crazy sometimes, but she wasn't certifiably insane. So, with her head down, she hastened her steps and made quick work of crossing the docks, hoping to lose the tail before she arrived at her apartment building. While it wasn't Harbor View Towers with its hired-gun militia standing guard, it was private, it was relatively secure, and she felt safe there.

Years before, she had dreamed of turning eighteen, graduating from high school, and telling her parents to shove their money where the sun didn't shine; she would support herself on her own. However, age and wisdom removed the rose tinted glasses from her eyes, and the artist realized it was better to accept some help when it was needed than let your pride get in the way of your success. So, she had made a deal with her parents. If they would agree to support her decision to study and become a painter, paying only for her tuition, she would get a job and pay for her living expenses. Although they still thought medicine was the only field a proper Webber should enter into, they had been begrudgingly impressed with her tenacity and strength of conviction, agreeing to her proposal.

So, here she was on the verge of turning nineteen, a relatively independent woman. She went to school during the day, taking a full course load of credits, and worked as a waitress at night twice a week, on the weekends, at The Port Charles Grill, and three times during the week at Kelly's. She had a small yet comfortable studio apartment where she both lived and worked, was slowly making friends on campus, and was quickly earning the admiration of her professors as they recognized her talent and dedication to her chosen medium. Life for Elizabeth Webber was good…or better than it ever had been before.

Sure, she was lonely, and, despite herself, she missed Jason. They had never been very present in each others lives in the past, but, even when he was thousands of miles away on another continent, the brunette had known he cared, that he would be there for her if she needed him, and that, somewhere in the world, there actually existed a person who understood her. But that was gone now. In one crushing move, the man, who had saved her all those years before in the park on a Halloween night that could not have been any more different than the one they were currently experiencing, had destroyed the very foundation they had built their friendship upon. Yes, it had hurt to realize his feelings weren't as deep, weren't as un-friend-like as her own, but what had truly broken her heart was finding out he was just another person on a long list who did not respect her. He hadn't trusted her enough to make her own decisions or to know how she felt, and he, through his own actions, had done something he said he never did – he told someone else what to do.

In that moment, when she had seen Jason in bed with another woman, she had turned her back on him, figuratively speaking. She knew it was irrational. Realistically, she had no hold upon him; he had been free to be with whomever he chose, but pain wasn't rational, and he had done nothing to make her change her mind. He had accepted her walking away, had let her go, and now, here she was a year later, after absolutely no contact with the blonde enforcer, alone and afraid just minutes before her birthday and wishing Jason was there to save her once again.

The thought only infuriated her even more.

With her frustration and fear prickling the back of her neck and spurring her on at a faster pace, she closed the last few yards separating her from the protection of her building, latching a slightly shaking hand onto the front door, but, before she could pull it open, someone's else's hand latched onto her arm, removing it from the door and pulling her back away from the apartment complex's entrance. She was trapped. Whoever it was who had been following her had caught up to her, and they were not going to let go anytime soon. Sheer and blinding panic immobilized her.

"Elizabeth, wait, please," a voice she knew from her past pleaded softly, the man's words coming from above her for he was taller. Instantly, her panic was replaced by furious resentment, steeling her body and tensing her muscles. "I've been trying to get you to stop and talk to me for the past fifteen minutes."

Rounding on the toes of her black, high heeled boots, the college student turned to face the man she now considered her adversary. "No, Jason," she argued, pushing roughly against his chest and, pleasantly surprising herself, making the mob hit man rock back a step before he could recover and right his position. "What you've been doing is stalking me! You of all people should know how that would mess with my head."

"I know I shouldn't have, but I had no other choice. I tried calling, but…"

"I changed my number," she interrupted him, her tone a mixture of icy rage and passionate suffering.

"Then I tried writing to you, but all my letters were sent back."

"That tends to happen when you move." Gesturing vaguely behind her, she referenced the apartment building. "If you hadn't realized it yet, I live here now."

"I know," Jason admitted. "I had you checked out."

"You did what?"

"Well, how else was I to find out where you were, Elizabeth," he countered, unapologetic for invading her privacy. "You were avoiding me, and I needed to see you; I needed to talk to my friend."

Lifting her face and squaring her jaw, the artist challenged him. "I'm not your friend."

"You might not consider me a friend after…," his voice trailed off. Quirking a jaunty brow at the enforcer, she realized he was uncomfortable with the turn their conversation had taken and could not say the words that would admit his actions out loud. The petite brunette found that fascinating, but, before she could analyze his behavior, he pressed on. "But, no matter what, you'll always be important to me. Nothing could change that."

Suddenly the small victory she had won at his embarrassment and shame at his own actions was dimmed by her own feelings of hurt. "Apparently I wasn't important enough."

"I'm going to be a father."

Now that she had not been expecting, and, by the self-loathing rolling off Jason, she knew the older man had not intended to share his news with her in that way.

"Well, at least we know it wasn't an immaculate conception."

"Elizabeth," he groaned out, pinching the bridge of his nose at the sound of her sarcasm.

"Don't _Elizabeth_ me," she accused, jabbing an irritated finger into the strong wall of his chest. "We don't see or talk to each other for a whole year…"

"And whose fault is that?"

"Oh, I would so not go there if I were you," the artist warned, backing a step away from the man she once considered her confidant and protector, "because I would, hands down, win that battle."

"You're right."

"You can bet your ass that I'm right," she tossed back at him, still not pacified by his calm acceptance of the blame for their failed relationship. "Like I was saying," she continued, "it has been twelve long months since we were even in the same room with each other, and you follow me home and confront me outside my apartment building to tell me that you knocked up some random slut? What the hell did you want me to do…to say? I really don't think I could muster a very convincing congratulations. The most I can offer you is some advice." She paused to catch her breath and found the alleged hit man watching her closely, his eyes, though resigned, tinged with remorse and sorrow. "Get a paternity test."

"What?"

"If this woman, who claims to be having your child, jumped into bed so easily with you, then you better damn well believe that she did the same exact thing with countless other men, and, let's face it, Jason, anyone with the intelligence level of a five year old would be able to realize who you are and just how powerful and wealthy you are." Reiterating her words, she advised him again. "Get. A. Paternity. Test."

Spinning around, she moved to go inside again, but his words made her pause.

"I'm… I'm terrified, Elizabeth."

Damn her compassion. Damn her soft spot for bad boys. And damn her inability to ever genuinely stop caring for Jason Morgan. With those four despondently whispered words, he had reeled her in, and she knew she wasn't going anywhere soon unless he went with her.

"I just…I never thought I'd be a father," he continued to talk from behind her, confessing his deepest fears to her slumped shoulders and wind blown hair. "It was never a part of the plan."

"You can't plan your whole life," she murmured in response, unsure if he could even hear her. "Things happen; things change. What matters is how you react to the unexpected."

"But look at my life," the enforcer pressed. "Damn it, Elizabeth, I kill people for a living."

Pivoting around, she reached up and slapped her hand against his mouth. "Have you gone insane?" Glowering at him, she shook her head in annoyance.

Men really were the weaker sex. And stupid, too.

"You do not admit to offing people in public. You're lawyer would have a shit fit if she ever found out about that little admission of yours." Lowering her voice and her arm, the college student took his hand and led him inside with her. "Do you realize how lucky you are that it's late and no one else is around? Otherwise, we'd be finishing this conversation in a holding cell down at the PCPD." As they approached the elevator, she turned to look at the older man beside her once again only to find a satisfied smirk lighting up his face. "What the hell are you smiling about, Big Daddy?"

"I thought you weren't talking to me?"

"Don't get cute," she warned him. Too bad it was the exact wrong thing she should have said. His grin only grew wider. "I'm calling a temporary cease fire. We're going to go upstairs," she explained. "You're going to tell me about this kid of yours, I'm going to listen and only interject snarky comments when I deem them necessary, and then we're going to figure this out together…for old time's sake."

"And in the morning?"

"Who said you're spending the night?"

"This is a conversation that's going to take a while, Elizabeth," he rationalized. "You wouldn't make me go home when I was emotionally drained and exhausted, would you?"

Now she knew he was teasing her. "Oh, you'll go home, even if I have to pour an entire pot of coffee down your throat to ensure you don't pass out on the way back to Jake's."

Just then, the elevator bell pealed and the doors opened as they arrived at her floor. As she went to step out into the hallway, she found that her left hand was still joined with Jason's right.

"By the way, Elizabeth," he brought her attention back to his face. "Happy Birthday."

Damn it.

Evidently, she had just gotten her friend back. The sneaky bastard.


	8. Root of Hemlock Digg'd i'the Dark

Prompt #8: **The girl needs some monster in her man.  
**

**Halloween Hookups**

**Root of Hemlock Digg'd i'the Dark**

Life really was quite confusing.

Just when he thought he had it all planned out, something had to come along and fuck everything up. That's what had happened when his daughter had been born. Just four weeks before her arrival, a woman he could only faintly remember from a one night stand that had shown up at his door, told him she was pregnant, and insisted that he was the father, and, while that alone had been a shock to his system, the fact that his first instinct was to seek out Elizabeth for her advice, for her friendship, well that was the truly frightening part.

He was supposed to be her protector, her confidante, and, in return, she was simply supposed to help him escape from his life and feel…well valued and special. Jason had never wanted to suddenly become another person who needed something from her, and he most certainly had not wanted to reach a point in their relationship where he expected her to be there for him. After all, being that emotionally attached to another person was a threat to his life. A good enforcer needed to stay detached at all times. If there was no one special in his life, then there was no one his enemies could attack him through, and, even though he had faith in his abilities to keep Elizabeth physically safe, the idea of her someday becoming repulsed by who he was or what he did and turning away from him, that was something he would not be able to recover from. In his mind, her face always needed to remain the same.

But, apparently, nothing he did to safeguard himself against her had worked. He had still gone to her when he needed help, he had still allowed her to support him with her unwavering friendship, and he had, unwillingly, fallen even deeper under her spell. Now, as a single father, he knew what unconditional love meant. He put his little girl's needs ahead of his own, he changed his lifestyle, taking less chances to ensure that he would be around for years to come so he could watch his daughter mature and grow into a woman (though she sure as hell was never going to marry or have kids of her own), and he realized just how empty his life was. He wanted someone to share it with now, someone who could love his baby just as much as he did; he wanted Elizabeth, and it was too damn late.

Two years ago at the same time, she had wanted him, too, but he had thrown her affections away as if they did not mean anything, and, now, he realized they had and still did mean everything. She had moved on though. At nineteen, she was a sophomore in college, studying to become an artist, and she was independent. With adulthood, he had watched as the beautiful, tragic girl he had met on a lonely fall night matured into a graceful, confident, capable woman, one who did not need him and the baggage his life came with stomping into her world and disrupting it. Maybe if he had something more to offer her, he would reconsider his plan to keep his feelings hidden, but he was simply a mob enforcer with an eleven month old daughter. What the hell would his continual presence in her life bring her but heartache?

Cracking his knuckles, the crude, harsh warning of impending violence the only sound disturbing the peaceful night, Jason set about his chore for the evening – burying the almost dead body of a rival mob boss. Joseph Sorel had been a menace towards both him and his employer one too many times, and, sick and tired of dealing with the upstart's lack of respect, he had taken the situation into his own hands…literally. With only his fists as weapons, he had slowly, painfully set about killing his rival, beating him to a bloody, unrecognizable pulp. Bones were broken, his face had caved in and had a hollow, sickly appearance, and blood and bruises marred the older man's flesh anywhere the eye could land, and, as he worked to dig the impromptu grave, Jason had to admit to himself that he had taken his actions a little too far. But Sorel had been convenient, an easy target for his frustration and anger at life, so he had released all his pent up emotions upon his enemy, further proving that he was undeserving of Elizabeth.

The fact that he was burying the soon-to-be dead man along side the old bridge just cemented his unworthiness, but he had chosen this sight on purpose. Whenever his resolve weakened and he started to believe he had something of value to offer the petite brunette, he would think back to all the times they had spent together, recall that his first memory of her was at the bridge, and then feel disgusted with himself for desecrating a place that should have remained untouched and forever beautiful. Dumping Sorel's body at a place he shared with the woman he loved would be a constant reminder to the enforcer that he really was a monster.

"Jason?"

_No!_ This could not be happening, not now, not ever. She could not be there; she could not see what he was doing. No, no, no, no, no! What was she doing there, and, perhaps more importantly, how the hell had she managed to sneak up upon him. He was supposed to be the best, infallible, untouchable, but, if a tiny, innocent wisp of a brunette could catch him in the act, could catch him getting rid of a body, then anyone would be able to, including the police or his enemies. He needed to get a hold of himself and he needed to do so immediately.

"You can't be here, Elizabeth. You need to leave. Now."

"Don't be ridiculous, Jason," she laughed off his directions, taking another step towards him. "What are you doing?" Nodding her head towards the hole behind him, she teased, "digging for buried treasure."

Sighing heavily, he closed his eyes, dropped the shovel he had been using, and reached into his coat for his cell phone. Without answering her, he dialed. Luckily for his nerves and his temper, the call was picked up immediately. "I need your help."

"Oh my god."

"There's a slight…problem," Jason admitted to his associate. "I need to leave so I can take care of something else, so I need you to come here and…"

"Oh! My! God!" At the panic in her voice, the hit man looked up and noticed the woman across him was pale and shaking. "You, you're," she lifted a finger and pointed it at him accusingly. "OH! MY! GOD!"

She was going to break, lose control, and he could already see the tears swelling into her wide, frightened blue eyes. Snapping his phone shut, he took a step closer to her, and, when she didn't back away, he closed the distance, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders and guiding them quickly back to where he had his bike hidden in the dying foliage. Because she was too frozen to act on her own, Jason gently slid the spare helmet he kept on his bike over her head and secured it under her chin. Helping her straddle the motorcycle, he waited until she was settled before climbing on himself, and, before he could even turn the machine on, Elizabeth's arms were wrapped so slightly around him, he could barely breathe.

He didn't mind though. Hell, if he was completely honest with himself, he would have to admit it was the most complete he had felt in years, and he was bolstered by the fact that she wasn't pulling away from him physically. That meant he might be able to talk to her about what she had witnessed, explain it the best he could. Obviously, there was nothing he could say that could excuse his actions, but he hoped she would, at least, listen to his side of the story before jumping to conclusions, judging him, and kicking him out of her life once and for all. Did he deserve her understanding or compassion, of course not, and, even though he knew it would be safer for her to walk away from him and never look back after that night, he wasn't ready to exist in a world without Elizabeth in it to some degree.

So, they rode. They went slow; they went fast. They went on roads he traveled frequently; they went on new routes together he had never traveled before. For hours, they simply existed together on the back of his bike, the wind and the night the only company they needed. Eventually, he could feel her relax, her body become soft and malleable as it molded around his, and the quiet and stillness of the countryside became disturbed by her excited little screams and giggles of joy. By the time they pulled up to her apartment complex, Jason knew that the delicate woman behind him was not only emotionally stronger than anyone gave her credit for but physically as well. She loved riding his motorcycle as much as he did if not more.

Silently, they lifted their road weary and stiff bodies from the bike and made their way into the building, onto the lift, and into her studio before either of them tried to speak.

"Elizabeth…"

"It's okay," she assured him with a soft smile. "I understand."

"You do?"

"You've never lied to me, Jason; you've always been upfront about who you are and what you do. Did you honestly believe that I didn't know what happened to the man who attacked me all those years ago in the park?"

"Well, no," he admitted, furrowing his brow in thought.

"And I trust you," she pressed, crossing to him and leading him by the hand to her small sofa once her coat, scarf, and gloves were removed. "You wouldn't have gone after that man you were…," she swallowed thickly before saying the words out loud, "disposing of tonight if he didn't deserve it." When he went to interrupt her, she wouldn't let him. "I know that you're no angel, Jason, that you do bad things, but you're not a malicious person, and you wouldn't hurt or kill someone unless they did something so terrible that, frankly, I don't even want to know about it."

She amazed him; her faith in him, though he was undeserving, awed him. "How do you know that?"

"Because, you saved me," Elizabeth answered simply. "You're always there for the people who matter to you, you put the needs of others ahead of your own, and I can see it in your eyes."

"See what?"

"Your compassion, your strength, your honor, your love." He blinked rapidly for, suddenly, his eyes were blurry and he couldn't see clearly, and he wanted to be able to. Hell, he needed to be able to see the woman he loved when she said such words of comfort and reassurance, words that seemed to effortlessly be able to cure him with their simplicity of nature and beauty of faith. "I see it in the way you take care of your daughter and put her first." With just one reminder of his little girl, Jason felt himself grin. "Will you tell me about her?"

"About Ella?"

His smile only grew larger as he watched the lock of shock wash over the artist's face.

"You…you named her after…me?"

"You're my friend," he reasoned, shrugging his shoulder to dismiss the significance of the honor.

"Well," Elizabeth sniffed, laughing derisively at herself as she wiped a tear away. "That's definitely the best birthday present anyone's given me this year. I see you haven't lost your touch."

And, with that, he started to share stories of his little girl, and, within minutes, the only woman in his life was curled into his side, listening attentively. Although it had not been planned, they had managed to spend another Halloween together, another of the brunette's birthdays together. Although Jason Morgan didn't believe in such things as fate or destiny, he had to admit he liked their ritual. After all, one day a year with Elizabeth Webber was better than nothing at all.


	9. Toad, That Under Cold Stone

Prompt #9: **And the lights went out in Port Charles.  
**

**Halloween Hookups**

**Toad, That Under Cold Stone**

Sometimes the best things in life were ones that were unexpected. When Elizabeth Webber woke up that Saturday morning, she had her entire day planned out – take a long, hot shower, get dressed for work, eat enough sugar to get her through a double shift at the Port Charles Grill, and then spend Halloween serving customers overpriced meals while, at the same time, hoping they left her very generous tips. But, from the moment her petite, bare toes touched the hardwood floors of her studio apartment that morning, nothing had gone as planned.

First, her boss called. He informed her that the entire city was going on lock down which immediately made the brunette panic. Her first thought was that her crazy, hippie neighbors had been right to prepare for nuclear war while she was growing up, because, at the first mention of lock down, she really wanted to be inside their prettily painted bunker with the bright flowers and row after row of nonperishable foods. Apparently, the restaurant manager had sensed her impending dread, because he informed her there was an ice storm moving in and it had its direct sights set on Port Charles. By the time she hung up the phone, she could hear the older man mumbling to himself about _useless college students and their inability to not toke the reefer_.

His complaints only confirmed the artist's suspicions that her boss was a closet imbiber himself. The realization made her giggle, and her giggles made her fall back into bed, and her bed made her notice just how tired she was, so she went back to sleep. A day off from work without being sick and nothing else to do but be lazy, it what exactly what she had been hoping to get for her birthday without even realizing it.

Much later that afternoon, she woke up rested, content, and itching to paint. Not bothering to get dressed, she set to work on an already prepared canvas, and, before she knew it, day had turned into night, and her studio was so full of paint fumes, she felt dizzy. At first, she went to open the windows like she normally did, but, because of the storm, they were frozen shut. Suddenly, she felt trapped. She needed fresh air, she needed to go outside, and she needed to take a walk even if the streets were a veritable ice skating rink. It was almost as if there was something stronger than she was compelling her to leave the safety of her apartment, and Elizabeth Webber had never been a woman to ignore her instincts.

After emptying an entire bottle of odor eliminator by spraying every imaginable piece of fabric in the room and lighting several appropriately scented candles for fall, she slipped on her running shoes, hoping the traction their soles offered would be enough to keep her from taking a nose dive as soon as she stepped outside, long bathrobe, winter coat, a scarf, mittens, and a stocking cap. It didn't matter that she looked absolutely ridiculous, because, first of all, she warm, and, secondly, who the hell else would be crazy enough to be outside at eleven thirty at night during a freaking ice storm?

No one she knew, that was for sure, and, if anyone found out about her little excursion outside that evening, she'd never live it down. With that thought in mind, she decided to stick to the side streets and alleys, just in case, hoping their shadows would keep her hidden.

Surprisingly, it worked, and, once she had figured out how to use the walls of the buildings she passed for support so she wouldn't slip and slide across the sidewalks, the artist found that she rather enjoyed her walk. Without thinking, she let her wide, appreciative eyes and her heart guide the way. Port Charles, a city she could normally see every single flaw in, appeared beautiful under the full, silver moon, its bright light combined with the colors of the night casting an almost purple haze across the ice covered, lakeside town. Observing the almost dream-like vision, she felt as if she were standing in the middle of a life-size amethyst, and she couldn't wait to go home and attempt to translate the amazing elegance onto a canvas. But, first, she had to find her way back to her apartment building.

Looking around herself, she realized she had made it to the entrance of the park, its gates beckoning to her from the opposite side of the street. Elizabeth knew she'd be able to cut across the park and make it home much sooner than if she retraced her winding steps that had led her to her current position, but it had been years since she'd gone into the park alone at night, and the last time she had done so, she had needed Jason to save her from being raped. Although she doubted any sexual predators were on the prowl that night, she also knew Jason had more sense than she did, and he'd never be out taking a walk in the middle of a storm. Using rational thought instead of allowing her fear to dictate her life, she took one step forward, letting go of the wall she had been holding onto, and then another and another until, finally, she found herself on the stairs that lead her down into the city commons area.

With once glance at her surroundings, she gasped. Everything was even more picturesque and charming in the park than it had been on the streets. Its bare trees all held millions of tiny, twinkling icicles, and, alone, she could imagine that they were all shining for her. The sight relaxed her, gave her confidence, and, before she knew it, she was at the exit and was saddened to see her apartment building standing bright and proud in front of her, its warmth a beacon to all in the crisp night air.

Before she could make it across the street though, something off in an obscure corner caught her eye. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was a man, an obviously injured man. Knowing it was foolish but unable to stand by and allow another person to suffer when she might be able to help them, the petite brunette slowly approached the still form, details of the man's appearance registering on her numbed mind slowly. His jacket, a well worn leather motorcycle jacket, was bloodied, his jeans wet and stiff from the ice the heat of his body had initially melted when he had landed in the position he now rested in, and his light blood hair was matted against his scalp with what she could only imagine was a mixture of blood, dried sweat, and slowly falling snow. Without having to see his face, she knew; she knew it was Jason, and she instantly realized why it had been so very important for her to take a walk that night.

Her friend, the man who had saved her years before, the man she still secretly loved from afar had needed her to save him that evening, to return the favor.

So many thoughts were swirling through her worried and frightened mind as she slowly got a delirious Jason to his feet, his body leaning precariously against hers. With sheer will and determination, she got him inside her apartment building and onto the elevator before they both collapsed, once again, from exhaustion and exertion. When the lift stopped at her floor, she threw her coat in the door's way to keep it open long enough for them to escape the small, metal box.

"It's going to be okay," she promised him as they slowly made their way to her door. Even as the words left her mouth, Elizabeth new they were inane and, in all likelihood, unfounded. He had been shot, that much she could tell, and there was no way she could get him to the hospital on a night like the one they were experiencing. She had no medical skills whatsoever, the televisions had basically reported before the ice storms had finally hit that afternoon that the hospitals were practically ghost towns because ambulances couldn't get to those who needed medical assistance, and she wasn't even sure if she'd be able to find her damn first aid kit.

"It's warm in my apartment," she finally shook off her doubts to refocus upon her best friend. She hadn't seen him in months, but, as soon as she did, all the feelings she felt for him came rushing back stronger than ever. "I'm lucky, because this complex has a working generator, so, until we can get you help, we'll just…stay here, I guess."

"No cops," the enforcer next to her whispered out.

Without argument, the brunette accepted his request. "I won't call the police."

"In the morning," he started to direct her, but he had to pause to take a deep breath. It only resulted in him coughing violently. "When the roads are passable, call Sonny."

"Your boss?"

"He'll send a doctor."

"Okay," Elizabeth agreed readily. At this point, she would do anything he told her to do. "For now though, I think we need to get you in bed and underneath lots of blankets. Do you know where you were hit?"

"Shoulder," he replied brokenly. "Clean hit, went all the way through." Wincing as she helped lower him to her bed, he went on to explain more as she slowly started to undress him, working from his shoes up to his shirt. "I was coming to see you, to…wish you a…"

"Oh, Jason," she sighed, a big, lopsided smile lighting up her face at his confession. Shaking it off, she went back to the business at hand. "It's okay. I understand. Please try and save your energy."

"…and they came up from behind me. I never heard them."

Wrinkling her brow, she wondered out loud, "should you really be telling me any of this?"

Evidently, he didn't hear her, because he just pressed on. "I thought that was it, you know, that I was going to die. It was foolish to go outside on a night like tonight, but I always see you on your birthday, one way or another, and I refused to allow a storm to stop me." She chuckled at that, his stubbornness at absolutely refusing to let something as _trivial_ as the weather get in his way, but he seemed too lost in his mumbled, feverish thoughts to realize she found his ramblings entertaining. "The wound would have been fine, but, if you wouldn't have found me,…"

"You would have died of hypothermia," Elizabeth finished for him. As she reached to unbutton his jeans, she felt him tense underneath her. "What?"

"Why were you outside? Are you crazy to go out alone in the middle of an ice storm?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she returned smartly, smirking at his so not amused glower. "Fine," the artist relented, sighing in aggravation and returning his glare though she wasn't really mad. "My apartment smelled like paint fumes, and I needed some fresh air." Thinking back to her almost obsessive desire to go out for a walk, she added, "plus…it was like I **had** to, like something was pushing me to take a walk. And it's a good thing I did, because otherwise…"

"I'd be dead," he finished for her. "You saved my life. Thank you."

Keeping the mood light, she teased, "just returning the favor, Morgan." Standing up when he was left resting in only his boxer-briefs, she ordered, "now, scoot over. I'm going to get a large bath towel to wrap around your shoulder, and then I'm crawling in there with you to keep you warm. We need to raise your body temperature."

He complied without argument to her instructions, and, five minutes later, with the lights out and only the candles she had lit earlier to illuminate the room, she wrapped her arms around a practically naked Jason Morgan and snuggled her short and tank top clad form in against him. In all the ways she had ever imagined over the years getting this man into her bed, saving him from hypothermia had never been a fantasy she entertained, but, now that it was happening, she wouldn't change a single thing about it.

He was there with her, like he always was, on her birthday, and, for the first time in their relationship, she had gotten the opportunity to save him. Sometimes it really was better to give than to receive, an odd lesson to learn on your birthday, but her relationship with Jason had always been like that- extraordinary and unpredictable. That's what made it so special.


	10. Harpier Cries "Tis Time, Tis Time"

Prompt #10: **"I met him fifteen years ago; I met this man with this blank, pale, emotionless face and the blackest eyes; the Devil's eyes. I spent eight years trying to reach him, and then another seven years trying to keep him locked up because I realized that what was living behind that man's eyes was purely and simply... evil." Dr. Sam Loomis, Halloween**

**Halloween Hookups**

**Harpier Cries "Tis Time, Tis Time"**

It felt weird to be here again. Hell, who was she kidding? Anywhere she went in Port Charles felt weird. After being gone for six months, readjusting to life in the small town was more difficult than Elizabeth had expected, but she was back, classes had started again, and she was moving, so only more things were going to change. For some reason, before she could pack her last box and turn her back upon her studio once and for all, she needed closure, a way to say goodbye to the woman she had been before she had gone abroad to study; she needed to find a way to say goodbye to Jason Morgan.

Their relationship, with all its ups and downs, miscommunications, and even its wonderful moments, was unhealthy. She was in love with him; he only saw her as a friend, and, even putting aside their contrasting feelings for one another, she had finally realized that one day out of a whole year did not constitute a relationship. At most, they were acquaintances. It didn't matter that they had both saved each other, that they had shared a kiss, that she had held him close to her for an entire night the year before. Not only did she need more, but the young artist knew she deserved more, too. Finding Jason and taking care of him had taught her that.

Before the moment she had seen him lying almost unconscious in the snow, he had always represented something bigger, something more powerful than she was. Perhaps because of her silly, teenage crush, she had made him out to be some sort of hero, but thinking that way was unfair to the both of them. After all, he was just a man with flaws and weaknesses, and, as the years moved on, she had turned into the woman who had loved him not in spite of those flaws but because of them. She had loved him for the way he always tried to protect her, for his brooding, silent nature, even for his inability to ever truly tell her how he felt. Everything about him, the good and the bad, made Jason the person he was, and she could have happily accepted him that way until the night she had saved his life.

In the moment that they woke up together the next morning after spending the night together the year before, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, her head resting on his uninjured shoulder, his face buried in her hair, she realized sitting back and loving him from afar while waiting for him to someday return her feelings wasn't enough. If he couldn't love her for who she was the same way she loved him, then she would somehow rid herself of her feelings and find someone else to give them to, someone who would want to be with her, would want to share their life with her every day of the year and not just one.

Going abroad, studying for a semester in Italy, and being away from both Port Charles and all the things that reminded her so much of Jason helped her distance herself from the blonde enforcer even more. She never sent him a postcard the way he had her when he was traveling, she never got word to him to let him know she was alright, and, when she had returned to the city she had called home since she was born, she never told him she was back. Cutting all communication with the older man was the only way she would be able to forget about him and her feelings, and it didn't hurt her resolve any that she had returned to town with more than souvenirs. Elizabeth had brought back a boyfriend from Italy, too.

And now they were moving in together.

But, before she could fully commit to the man who loved her, she had to say goodbye to the man she had loved for so long. It had not been easy to figure out exactly how she should go about letting Jason go completely, nor had it been easy for her to decide the best place to say said goodbye. Eventually though, she had settled on Vista Point. Unlike any other location she and the hit man shared together, the lookout only held fond, happy memories for the brunette.

It was the place she had gone to on her seventeenth birthday to feel close to him, it was the place he had surprised her at, flying up from the Caribbean to simply wish her a happy birthday, and it was the first and only place the two of them had shared a kiss, and, now, five years later, she was back to remember all the wonderful times they had shared together one last time and to bury them so deep inside her heart, she'd never be able to recall them again.

Leaning out across the railing, she took a calming, cleaning breath. Unlike most Halloweens in the sleepy lakeside town, this one was mild. The meteorologists said they were experiencing an Indian summer, but, unlike most residents, Elizabeth missed the air that was so crisp it could make your lungs burn. She missed waking up in the morning and looking outside to see a heavy frost tinting the green grass a pale mint color. She longed for the purity of the first snow, and she needed to feel the earth dying around her as it prepared to hibernate, rest, and recuperate for life anew. Early winter she could identify with, for she was attempting to do the very same thing to her heart – hibernate her feelings for Jason, rest her mind, and recuperate her emotions so that they were ready to start a new life with her boyfriend. He deserved that from her, and she deserved the chance to give it to him. But, still, fall hung on and so did her love for a man who would never return her feelings.

At least this year it was very unlikely they would run into each other. Most people in Port Charles thought she was still in Italy, and, if nothing else, he had a daughter who was almost three years old to chase around, take trick-or-treating, and watch over. Surely, with everything going on in his life, Jason wouldn't have time to go off searching for her, especially after what had happened the year before. Knowing she was alone and feeling reassured that she would remain that way, Elizabeth allowed herself the chance to relax, to move away from the edge of the lookout to sit down on _the bench_ , and to finally let all her strong, courageous pretenses drop; she allowed herself to cry.

As soon as the first tear fell, dozens followed, and what was supposed to be a simple release of frustration, hurt, and anger turned into body wracking, hiccupping sobs. It was as if once she gave herself the freedom to cry, she couldn't stop, and it was refreshing. The last time she had shed a tear had been a year before. Just as she had promised Jason, when they woke up that morning after the night of the ice storm, she had called his boss who had, in turn, sent men to pick up his trusted enforcer. For some stupid, delusional reason, she had hoped Jason would refuse to leave her or, if the doctor said his wound was too serious to stay, would insist that she go with him, but, instead, he had simply thanked her once again and turned his back on her, walking out without a second glance in her direction. The door behind him had not even latched completely shut before she collapsed onto the floor in tears, but, five minutes into her cry, she had gotten mad. She had gotten mad, she had gotten pissed off, trash your apartment, change your life, irrationally mad. Her rage had led to her determination to exercise Jason from her life, her determination had led to studying abroad in Italy, and Italy had led to finding herself a boyfriend who actually gave a damn about her more than twenty-four hours out of any given year.

Bully for her.

Too bad being with a man she didn't love and pretending to feel the same way for him was making her hate herself. Too bad her entire plan to exercise Jason from her heart had failed. And it was too bad that, as she sat there attempting to say goodbye to the enforcer, she found herself hoping that, despite all the reasons why he shouldn't find her that night sitting at Vista Point all alone mere minutes before her birthday, that he would.

And people said the mind was stubborn. Well, they were wrong. The truly tenacious organ was located about a foot and half lower in the human body, slightly left of center.

Balling her delicate fingers into fists, Elizabeth pounded her hands against the unforgiving wooden bench, screaming her aggravation with the whole world but mainly with herself into the gentle breeze. Yelling felt good and so did the pain, so she screamed some more and increased the force of her blows against the weathered seat.

"If you keep doing that, you're going to get a splinter."

As soon as the words were uttered from beside her, the brunette, without looking, leapt to her feet, clutching at the exact obstinate organ she had been cursing not two minutes before. "Fuck!"

His only response was to chuckle.

"You can't do that, Jason! Unless you want to give someone a heart attack the next time, you should stop sneaking up on people." Exhaling sharply, she glared at the man reclining back smugly beside where she had just been sitting. Dropping back down on the bench, she punched his shoulder, and, when her feeble attempts to hurt him only made him laugh harder, she continued to do so.

"That's better," he complimented her actions. "I'd rather you take your frustration out on me than this bench. At least I won't hurt you."

Averting her gaze, she mumbled under her breath. "That's what you think."

"What?"

"Nothing," the artist dismissed, turning back around to face the hit man and offering him an unconvincing smile. "It was nothing."

"Elizabeth?"

"Damn it, Jason, I said it was nothing, so just drop it already!"

"Alright, I will," he agreed almost hesitantly. "Are you okay? You seem a little…tense."

Rolling her eyes, she twisted back around to face the skyline, folded her arms across her chest, and responded. "I'm as fine as frog hair."

"Oh."

Becoming exasperated with him, with the situation, and especially with herself, she demanded to know, "what do you want, Jason?"

"I just…it's almost midnight," he explained, "so it's almost your birthday. I wanted to see you."

"That's all?"

"Does there need to be anything else? It's not enough that I want to spend time with my friend when she turns twenty-two?"

Shrugging her shoulders, she said, "I don't know anymore." When he touched her hand, silently asking her to face him, she complied and then continued to explain. "Maybe it's supposed to be enough, but it's not."

"I don't understand."

"I met someone."

"Yeah, okay," the blonde eyed her carefully, smirking with amusement. "I meet a lot of people all the time."

"No, Jason," she corrected him, emphasizing her words. "I _met_ someone. We're…we're moving in together."

"You're getting a roommate?" Scratching his jaw, he quirked a sandy brow in her direction. "Your studio's kind of small. Won't the two of you be cramped living there together?"

"We would be," she admitted, "so that's why we're going to be renting a house instead. It's nothing flashy, just a little two bedroom cottage, but it gets great light, and it has a bathtub. I love," she drawled out the word, fluttering her lashes softly in sheer bliss at the very idea of the whirlpool, "bathtubs."

Apparently, he still wasn't getting it. "But what if you have company? Where will they stay?"

"In the guest bedroom."

"But you said there were only two bedrooms. I'm confused."

"There are only two," she laughed at his baffled expression. "My boyfriend and I will share the master, and then we'll use the second as a guest bedroom."

Before replying, Jason swallowed thickly three times, and, once he did speak, the words appeared to give his mouth a foul taste. "Your boyfriend?"

Standing up from the bench, she slid her purse onto her shoulder before answering. "We met in Italy, and, to be with me, he transferred to PCU." Nodding her head just once, almost as if to say goodbye, she went to leave. "Take care of yourself…and Ella."

Walking away, she never heard his response – a quiet, heartbreaking, and most definitely regretful, "happy birthday, Elizabeth."

And, just like that, she moved on.


	11. Something Wicked This Way Comes

Prompt #11: **Sweet n' Tart.  
**

**Halloween Hookups**

**Something Wicked This Way Comes**

There was going to be hell to pay.

Although he wasn't sure who he was going to make suffer, or how, or even exactly why, the one thing Jason Morgan knew for sure was that someone was going to have to stand by and allow him to take out his aggression on them, otherwise he was going to explode. For days his fury had been stewing. At first, it had started at a slow and steady boil only to increase to the point where his daughter's nanny felt it best for the four year old to spend the weekend away from him, and, now, two days later and expecting the little girl's return the next morning, he was angrier than he had been when she had left. His destroyed apartment could attest to that. In fact, the only room that had been spared his wrath was Ella's bedroom and that was simply because he couldn't add his daughter's disappointment onto everything else he was feeling at the moment.

Panic. Disbelief. Hurt. Rage. Sorrow. They were all swirling around in his chest, suffocating him, and taking a ride or blowing off some steam by playing a game of pool simply wouldn't work to rid the enforcer of the barrage of emotions he had been experiencing since the moment he had seen it.

The announcement.

Perhaps he should have been worried about the fact that he, one of the most feared and respected mob enforcers on the east coast, had been reading the society pages in the first place, but Jason had rationalized his behavior (since when had he started to do that) by telling himself a man in his position needed to know everything about the town he lived in, even inconsequential things such as silver anniversary parties and new births. No, what he found to be truly startling was the fact that one Miss Elizabeth Imogene Webber had gotten engaged.

She had gotten engaged to _another_ man, a man that was not him, and she hadn't even bothered to tell him, to pick up the phone and give him a call. Hell, a freaking warning letter would have been preferable to sitting down Friday morning to drink his strong, black coffee and spend a few quiet minutes reading the paper only to find her being held in some random guy's arms as the headlines boldly proclaimed their upcoming nuptials. Not only had he dropped his mug, the mug his daughter had painted for him for father's day that past June, and scalded _himself_ so badly he had walked funny for several hours afterwards, but he had lost it, swearing and throwing things right in the middle of his living room where Ella could see. And she had – she had seen everything.

So that was why someone was going to pay. He didn't care if it was Elizabeth's fiancé, some guy with a pasty looking face who wore a suit and worked at a bank of all places, because he had taken something Jason felt belonged to him, or the brunette herself for allowing another man besides the enforcer to claim her as his own. Or maybe they both would suffer. As he pushed his bike faster, harder, and more dangerously in the direction he was intent on traveling that night, the blonde realized he liked that idea – making both of them pay. Hell, he might as well add in a few innocents as well, find some petty thief or a coked out drug pusher and deal them a dose of vigilante justice. Sonny wouldn't mind, his daughter's world would be just that much safer, and, when he was finished, he might just feel a little bit better. But, first, he needed to see the woman who was causing all of his turmoil in the first place.

Although he didn't want to believe it, the announcement, coming mere days before Halloween and her birthday, a time of year they always spent together one way or another, felt like a physical blow to his body, like she had slapped him in the face or kneed him in the stomach. Jason knew it wasn't a coincidence. Either the artist was taunting him and everything they had shared and meant to one another, or she was purposing trying to replace the memories she had made over the years with him with those of another man. It didn't matter which option had motivated her into action, because, no matter what, he was going to confront her about it. He was going to confront her, he was going to finally admit how he felt for her, and then he was going to challenge her to deny the fact that she felt something for him as well. While she might not be in love with him like he was with her, after ten years, eleven if you counted the year Jason Quartermaine had known her, he knew the younger woman considered him as someone more than a friend. After all, she had kissed him when she turned seventeen, and two years before she had saved his life and held him as close to her as possible while they spent the night together.

Even if he had to settle for being her more than friend until he could make her fall in love with him, he would. He wanted, no, he needed her in his life that much. Sure, she had told him the year before that she was dating someone and that they were moving in together, but it had taken seeing her in another man's arms to make Jason realize that he could no longer stand by and not fight to be with her. It was almost as if her fiancé, by proposing in the first place, had dared the enforcer to come forward with his feelings, and Jason Morgan did not step down from a challenge. In fact, he was driving to Elizabeth's house that night to accept the other man's challenge, to accept it and beat him at said challenge all in one night. He was determined that, before he went home the next morning to his daughter, not only would the brunette know how he felt about her, but he would also possess her, claim her, take her and make her his own. And he wasn't even going to give her a chance to argue, because she would try, and, if nothing else, Elizabeth was stubborn and she was willful.

But he was just as stubborn and just as willful…if not more so.

And the fact that it was Halloween, a mere two hours from her twenty-third birthday, only made him that much more determined. After all, this was _their_ night. It always had been, and, in Jason's mind, it always would be. The only difference would be, in the future, every night would be their night. Once he had her, there would be no way he would ever let go.

Confidently, almost smugly so, he parked his bike, swung his leg over the hulking chrome machine, and strode purposefully up to the front of the little cottage. He was so intent upon his plan, he never looked towards the garage to see how many cars were parked inside, he didn't look at the house, study it, and see all the little quirks and gentle touches that made it Elizabeth's, and he sure as hell didn't stop and notice the things he and his daughter would love about the home, and, before he knew it, he was standing on her doorstep, pounding his fist against the green wooden door, and waiting, oh so very impatiently, for the artist to answer it.

"What is wrong? Why are you practically trying to break down…"

That was all he allowed her to say. Before Elizabeth could even realize it was him, he had her in his arms, and he was kissing her. It wasn't a tender kiss; it was a commanding, passionate, dominating kiss that drew her in immediately and refused to let go. He watched her as he ravaged her mouth, tasted her again for the first time in six years, and relished in the feeling of her body pressed up so intimately against his. It was like their forms were made to fit together, and that realization made him even hungrier for the brunette.

At first, he had expected her to fight him, to push him off, to deny his advances, but never once did Elizabeth attempt to pull away. Instead, she kissed him back as if she knew exactly whose arms she was in even before her eyes fluttered open and locked with his. Indigo crashed with cobalt, and she melted against him as her arms wrapped around his neck, her tongue dancing with his.

It didn't take long for Jason to remember where they were, and, although he was not against the idea of taking Elizabeth up against the front door of her house, branding it and the home it represented as theirs, he refused to treat her that way. Smoothly, he backed them into the warm and softly illuminated living room, kicking the door shut behind him without ever tearing his lips from her delicious mouth. When she protested, when she moaned deep in her throat and dug her heels into the hardwood floors, a physical plea for him to stop and simply allow her a moment to experience what they were sharing, he denied her; he picked her up, cradled her in his arms, and blindly made his way through the house, searching for the proper place to make love to her for the first time.

As he made his way down the short, back hallway, he noticed her bedroom off to the right, the bedroom she shared with her fiancé, and quickly turned in the opposite direction to enter the guestroom. The man she had promised to marry would not be there that night with them. He wouldn't haunt their first time together, his things wouldn't be surrounding them, reminding them, mocking them, and the guy sure as hell would not have a chance to be with Elizabeth in the same bed Jason was going to lay with her that evening and bury himself inside of her for the first and, if he had his way, certainly not the last time. When the young artist never argued with his choice of rooms, he knew she felt the same way.

Before either of them knew it, their clothes had disappeared and melted off their bodies, falling forgotten to the floor where they would be able to find them the next morning. But, after that, Jason purposely slowed things down. He didn't want their first time together to be rushed; instead, it had to be memorable, mind blowing, and, by the time they both reached their inevitable climax, he was damn well determined to make sure she'd never be able to make love to another man and not think about, remember, and want him instead. Although, it wasn't as if he was going to ever give her that chance anyway.

With a nude and vulnerable Elizabeth underneath him, Jason worshipped her body, savoring it, pleasing it, teasing it to the brink several times only to back off and start again. He loved everything about being with the brunette. He loved tasting her, he loved touching her, and, when they both reached the point where they couldn't take any more tantalizing foreplay, he absolutely adored being inside her. It was the closest thing to feeling complete that he had ever experienced.

They were in tangled in each others arms later as he heard a clock somewhere in her house chime midnight. "It's your birthday," he whispered, saying the very thing they had both just realized. "I'm sorry I didn't think before I came over here tonight. I should have brought you something, a gift or…"

"It's okay, Jason." Snuggling her head against his shoulder, she murmured, "you gave me everything I've ever wanted just now. You gave me yourself…even if it was for just one night."

"No," he argued. Sitting up in bed and startling her, he turned so that she would be forced to look in his eyes. "This wasn't just a one time thing. I want this." Motioning between the two of them, he explained. "I want you, me, and Ella to be a family. I want there to finally be an us."

"You saw the announcement."

It wasn't a question; it was a statement, and they both knew it. But, still, the enforcer felt the need to say something. "You know I love you, don't you?"

"You do?"

He could hear the uncertainty in Elizabeth's voice, and the sheer hope and fear in her eyes made him hate himself in that moment. "I do. I love you. I have for a long time now, but I've always been too afraid to admit it, at first because of who I am, what I do, and then because I didn't think you felt the same way."

"I love you, too, Jason." She laughed then suddenly, throwing up her arms in complete frustration. "I've loved you since I was a teenager."

"So now what?"

"I don't know," she admitted, allowing him to pull her back into his arms.

She was engaged, she had just cheated on her fiancé, and she was in love with another man, a man who lived a dangerous life, a man who had a daughter with another woman, and a man who had finally admitted that he loved her back. "I just…I don't know."


	12. Open, Locks, Whoever Knocks!

Prompt #12: **It's a dead man's party** AND/OR **"The Devil's voice is sweet to hear" Stephen King.**

**Halloween Hookups**

**Open, Locks, Whoever Knocks!**

Another year had passed since Elizabeth had seen Jason, but, in the meantime, so many things had changed between them. It was hard for her to believe her actions from the year before, and she still wasn't sure exactly what had caused her to make love to one man while engaged to another. Sure, she could have been flip and said 'the devil made me do it,' but her night with the enforcer was too special and meant too much to the both of them to dismiss it in such an unsavory way. The truth was, as soon as Jason's lips touched hers, she forgot about the man she had promised to marry, and the only thought in her mind that night, repeated in a constantly loop, had been – finally, after so many years of loving him, they were finally going to be together.

Too bad nothing had worked out that way.

In the light of day, her fiancé had returned home from his business trip, laden down with birthday presents and cake, unaware of the fact that he would never truly be able to give her what she wanted. Jason had gone home at dawn to clean up his penthouse and to prepare for his daughter's return, and Elizabeth had been unable to go back to sleep. Her life was a mess, and she had been the one to trash it. After several cups of hot chocolate, an entire package of Oreos, and a stomach ache, she had come to some very harsh decisions.

For one, it was obvious that her relationship with her fiancé was a sham, and, not only was it unfair of her to treat him that way and allow him to continue to believe that she loved and wanted to be with him, but it was also unfair to Jason, because she did actually love him, Ella, because the artist's actions were affecting the little girl's stability with her father, and herself. After everything she had been through in her short life, Elizabeth knew that she deserved some happiness, and she wasn't going to find it by running away or hiding from her emotions.

Secondly, she knew that she and Jason could not jump into an immediate relationship. Not only would it be unhealthy and probably spell trouble for them as a couple, but they had to put his daughter first. Elizabeth had yet to meet the little girl, and, if she was going to hold such an important role in the toddler's life, then they had to make sure she wasn't someone who would walk in, come to mean something to Ella, and then disappear. If she was going to date Jason and, in essence, become his daughter's mother figure, they had to make sure their relationship could last.

That meant time apart, something neither of them had wanted but had deemed necessary. While Elizabeth needed to undo the wedding debacle she had created and make a life for herself separate from both the past man in her life and the future one, Jason needed to slowly introduce the idea of a girlfriend to his daughter. Up until that point, if he had dated (and that wasn't something the brunette really wanted to hear details about, especially after her _unforgettable_ eighteenth birthday), his daughter had been none the wiser. Plus, he needed to make arrangements with his work, figure out a plan to keep Elizabeth safe, and become accustomed to the idea of sharing his feelings with her instead of keeping them all bottled up inside. That would be no easy feat either.

Finally, Elizabeth had insisted that she wanted to become an independent woman before they started dating. She wanted to find a real job, a job that could easily support her in the lifestyle she was familiar with, and she wanted to find a place to live and make it her own, a place that, when they first started dating, Jason and Ella could come over and spend time with her at. This portion of her plan had actually been the hardest to accomplish, but, after much thought and some determination, she had decided to go back to school and get her teaching degree. As an art teacher, she could make enough money to support herself and be independent, but she would also have time to work on her own pieces and continue striving towards her dream of becoming a world renowned artist.

She had two semesters, the spring and the summer ones, under her belt, and, though she wouldn't be finished until after the next spring semester had ended, it had been a year since she had seen Jason, and neither of them could stay away from each other any longer. Surprising him, she had called that morning and invited both the man she loved and his daughter over dinner the next night to celebrate her birthday, and she couldn't wait to tell him of all the changes she had made over the last twelve months. Knowing Jason and his penchant for keeping tabs on her, something she was too excited at the moment to even care about, he probably already knew that she was back in school, but he would let her tell him everything anyway, smiling in amusement at her ramblings, and enjoying their conversation despite its one sided nature. And that was just another reason why she loved him.

However, their date was the next night, meaning she had all of Halloween to do whatever she wanted. That translated into her going out and renting some movies, picking up dinner (some Ben and Jerry's), and getting dressed in her pajamas way before night fall. Currently, the ice cream container was three-fourths empty, and she was on her third movie, cuddled up in her bed with a mountain of blankets piled up on top of her. It had to be one of the best ways to spend All Hollow's Eve.

The persistent knocks on her door at a quarter till ten, though, were not a part of her plans.

Grumbling and rearranging her baggy sweats so that they were as straight and as non-wrinkled as they could be, she opened the door only to be greeted with a sight that had to be straight out a sugar induced dream. The question was though - when had she fallen asleep?

"Trick or Treat!"

Or maybe it was a diabetic coma. Yeah, that made more sense.

Jason Morgan, dressed as a motorcycle riding vampire enforcer (there really was no other way to describe his…costume[?) stood before her holding his daughter in one arm and a giant pillowcase stuffed full of treats from their holiday activities in the other.

"Surprise," Ella shrieked, astonishing Elizabeth when she held her arms out for the brunette to take her. Once the soon-to-be five year old was firmly held in her grasp, the curly haired blonde with wide, blue eyes asked, "do you know what I am?"

"You're an artist."

The child gasped in shock. "How did you know? Uncle Sonny said I was a mess."

"I know," the young woman smiled down at the little girl in her arms, so caught up in the moment that she still hadn't invited Jason inside, "because I'm an artist. Whenever I paint, I always end up looking like you do know."

"Wait, is your name Elizabeth?" The brunette in question nodded her head rapidly to answer yes. "So you're my Elizabeth?"

"Your Elizabeth?"

"The one I was named after, Daddy's best friend."

Sharing a quick glance with Jason, the college student saw the happiness radiating from the enforcer as he watched his daughter interact with the woman he loved. His contentedness reassured her that she could answer truthfully. "I am."

"Yay," Ella squealed, wrapping her arms around her namesake and giving her a quick hug, but, as soon as the gesture was finished, she was squirming in the artist's arms, asking without words to be put down. Once her little feet touched the floor, she was off exploring. Jason still had not said a word, and his gaze kept flickering back and forth between the two women in his life.

"So, was this your sly way of getting me to baby-sit tonight, or are you coming in as well?"

"May I?"

Elizabeth laughed at him. "Only if I get to see what's inside that pillowcase. Does your daughter like to share?"

The hit man laughed, strode confidently into the studio apartment, the same one she had lived in years before, and made his way towards her bed where his only child was already curled up under the blankets watching the movie that was playing on the television. With one glance at the little girl, Elizabeth knew she would soon be asleep.

Finally, he answered her. "She'll share with you." Once they were both settled under the blankets, one on each side of Ella, Jason's boots, jacket, and fake teeth tossed aside, he continued. "Sorry about this…coming over without calling first, but Ella has been bugging me all week about tomorrow night, she's been so excited to meet _her daddy's girlfriend_ , and she wanted to surprise you. I hope it's okay?"

"It's wonderful. Now," the artist ordered him, pointing towards the bag, "hand over the loot." As she rifled through the various treats, she teased, "I can't believe she got you to dress up…well wear vampire teeth."

He shrugged. "I'll do a lot of things I don't really want to for those I love."

Oh, now there was a statement loaded with double meaning, Elizabeth realized, but, for the moment, she wanted to keep their conversation light, at least until his daughter fell asleep.

Rifling through the pillowcase, she started to pout. "There's no candy in here."

"Candy rots teeth, Webber. What kind of parent would I be if I allowed my daughter to eat it?"

"She still has her baby teeth," she excused with a dismissive wave of her slender hand. "The point of a kid having baby teeth is so they can eat as much junk food as they want, rot their teeth out, and have some fun without any consequences for a few years."

"So then," he taunted, pulling the bag of goodies out of her grasp, "what's your excuse? I see dinner melting beside you on your nightstand." Nodding towards the almost finished ice cream, he pressed, "have you still not gotten your permanent teeth yet?"

"I'm a responsible adult who is quite capable of brushing after I eat sweets, and it doesn't matter what I eat, because I'm mature enough to take care of my teeth." When he just smirked at her, she threw her hands up in frustration. "And the why the hell are we talking about this anyway? I haven't seen you for a whole year, and…"

"Elizabeth said a bad word," Ella piped up, yawning as she spoke. "She needs to be punished, Daddy. Maybe a time out," she suggested.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it," Jason promised his daughter, smoothing back her curls and kissing her forehead. "Just go to sleep. Elizabeth will get what's coming to her."

She glared at the enforcer, the sensual promise of his words not going unnoticed, but she never said anything in response. They were both silent, and, as the minutes went by, she became aware of the fact that he was waiting until his little girl could no longer hear them before talking again. Finally, the movie was over and going on a continual loop through the main menu, when he picked the almost five year old up, moved her to the far side of the bed, and then took her place in the middle so he could be closer to her. Before Elizabeth could protest, she was in his arms, his hands were running soothingly along her sides underneath her sweatshirt, and he was talking in a hushed voice.

"I was only with Ella's Mom one night, and it didn't mean anything to either of us. In fact, when she came to me eight months later and told me she was pregnant, I couldn't even remember her name, but, even without the paternity test results that you urged me to get, and I did, I knew from the moment I saw my daughter that she was mine, and I wanted that responsibility; I wanted to be a father. Her mother, on the other hand, she only went through with the pregnancy because she knew I had money, so, as soon as Ella was born, she skipped town, her bank account full. She signed over all her rights to me, and my little girl has never met the woman."

"Jason, why are you telling me all this right now?"

"Because, other than her nanny and Sonny's wife, you're the first woman to ever be in Ella's life, and tomorrow is going to be our first real date. If things work out the way I think they will, the way I want them to, you'll someday be more than my girlfriend; you'll be my wife, and that means you'll be my daughter's Mom – not just her step mom but her mother, her real and only Mom." Kissing her neck softly, the man she loved whispered, "and, as her Mom, you needed to finally know the truth and all of it." Sliding down into bed with her held firmly in his arms, he reached across her body for the remote and turned the television off, plunging the studio into darkness. "Good night, Elizabeth," he murmured against her ear, "and happy birthday."


	13. For a Charm of Powerful Trouble

Prompt #13: **Black Licorice**

**Halloween Hookups**

**For a Charm of Powerful Trouble**

Enough was fu… freaking enough already.

Jason understood that things came up sometimes; distractions, commitments, even illnesses were unavoidable. As a renowned hit man, he was used to complications in his life, having to reorganize his schedule and prioritize his time so that he could minimize his workload, and he was good at it. With five years of experience doing just that before he and Elizabeth started dating thanks to being a single parent, the enforcer had assumed working his girlfriend into his schedule would be no more difficult than finding opportunities to spend with his little girl. He had been wrong.

The first week had been amazing. He, Elizabeth, and Ella appeared to be perfectly in sync and in tune with each other. While his girlfriend and daughter went to school, he went to work, and then they had all afternoon to spend together, and, after his five year old went to bed, he and the woman he loved had all evening to be alone. Most of the time, they were at his place, though she didn't seem to mind, mainly because it had more than one main room like her studio, providing the necessary privacy they needed, and everything had gone smoothly until… well… it didn't. In fact, after eight glorious days of harmony, all hell broke loose.

Between crazy mobsters demanding his attention (and, when he said crazy, he meant crazy in a beyond Sonny-esque way), his nanny quitting to run off and get married, and a sudden large amount of school work for Elizabeth, they had barely managed to see each other once a week. Then the holiday season rolled around, which, stupidly, he had thought meant things would get better for them, but they hadn't. Instead, Ella came down with the chicken pox, and, because his girlfriend had never suffered from the childhood virus before, she had been unable to have any contact with him or his daughter for almost three weeks. Once Ella was better, Elizabeth started student teaching, he had to go on business trips practically every other week, and life, in general, simply spun out of control.

So, here they were, a year into dating, and they had probably managed to spend fifty days together out of twelve months. Now, granted, fifty sure kicked the crap out of one, but, now that he had her in his life as _his_ girlfriend, he was greedy, and he wanted much, much more. In fact, he wanted everything. He wanted them to live together, he wanted to fall asleep with her in his arms at night and wake up with her in the morning sprawled across his chest which seemed to be her habit. He wanted her to help him get Ella ready for school in the morning, and then, when his daughter went over to eat breakfast with her Uncle Sonny, he wanted to _help_ Elizabeth get ready for school. It drove him crazy to see her in her tight fitting yet conservative teaching clothes with her hair pinned back, and he firmly believed she wore the seamed black hose everyday with her seductively sweet heels, mary-janes she called them, just to torture him, so, of course, he felt the need to watch her put them on every morning just so that he could count the hours until she came home and he could strip them back off of her.

He wanted to cook dinner with her every evening, help her wash the dishes every night, tease her while they did laundry together, and then take her on top of the washing machine. He wanted to know what it would be like to fall asleep holding in his arms while they laid out on the balcony during the summer or in front of the fire place during the winter. He wanted to teach her how to play using _their_ pool table in _their_ penthouse, and then, after she had learned, he wanted to make love to her on said pool table. He wanted all her girly stuff to crowd his medicine cabinet, he wanted her to hog the blankets at night and to slowly, over time, steal all his closet space, and he wanted to trip over her shoes and purses when he tried to make his way upstairs at night after a long day of work. He wanted it all, and, he had waited long enough. After all, Jason Morgan didn't sit back and let thing happen on their own; he went out and he simply did them. That's what he was paid for – taking care of business before business needed taking care of. In essence, he was a sort of problem solver, and this was one problem he could easily find the answer to.

So, he did.

He made some phone calls, he cancelled some meetings, and he actually threw around his money and his power to get everything he needed done in one afternoon. Now, it was time to sit back, bask in his self-satisfaction, and wait for the inevitable, figurative you-know-what to the hit the fan. And it would, too. As soon as Elizabeth got home from work, she'd see that everything in her apartment was gone – all her furniture, her clothes, her art supplies. He had even cleaned out her refrigerator, offering the men working for him that afternoon a free lunch. She would gape like a guppy for a few minutes and then come running to him.

As Jason Morgan's girlfriend she knew better than to call the cops, for, even if they could find a way to pull their heads out from where the sun doesn't shine, they would never help someone connected to him, so, instead, she would hope that he would be able to help her. Then he'd have to tell her that he had taken the liberty of moving her right into his penthouse, that he had given notice to her landlord that he could put her studio back up for rent, and that there really wasn't anything she could do or say about it. His comments would lead to her becoming angry, her anger would lead to a fight which, during the entire argument, he would have to hide his amusement at her temper, and, when everything was said and done, they'd have makeup sex and she would actually be happy to be living with him… or so he hoped. If nothing else, his actions would surely make for an unforgettable birthday for the brunette.

Luckily, he could always hear her getting off the elevator as she talked to the guards before she ever actually reached his door, and, that afternoon, it gave him the chance to wipe his smug grin off his face and appear nonchalant.

"All my stuff has been kidnapped!"

Oh, this was going to be even more fun than he had thought. She had bypassed worried, run through furious, and gone straight to paranoid. There were no greetings, no hello kisses, not even a preface to her irrational statement, and the enforcer couldn't wait to tease her.

"Kidnapped," he questioned with a mock-confused expression on his face. "Are you sure it wasn't just stolen?"

"Who would want my stuff?" Elizabeth threw up her arms in frustration. "Heck, I don't even want my stuff."

He rubbed his jaw, tilting his head to the side in thought. "So, then it's a good thing it was taken, right?"

"Wrong!"

"How so?"

"Just because I didn't like it, that doesn't mean I didn't want it," she explained, not really making much sense. "It was still mine, and it wasn't costing me any money. Unless I find my old stuff, I'm going to have to buy all new stuff, and I can't afford that."

"Well, I would offer to help, but," the blonde held up his hands before she could interrupt, "I know you, and I know that you hate to accept money from other people, so I won't even suggest it."

"Thank you."

"Now, about this kidnapping theory you have," Jason turned the conversation back to its original topic. "Have you gotten a ransom note yet?"

She glared at him. "Very funny."

"I'm being serious," he defended himself. "If your things were really kidnapped, then there will eventually be a ransom note. What did they take? Did they take your bed?"

"Yes," the art teacher pouted, making him want to stomp across the room and take her full bottom lip into his mouth and never let it go.

"Damn, I liked that bed."

"It was lumpy," she complained.

"I don't know," the enforcer defended. "I always enjoyed myself when I slept in it."

"The first time you were ever in my bed, you were delirious," she pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him. "And, as for all the other times, we didn't exactly do much sleeping, and, once we did, you were always too exhausted to care how uncomfortable you were."

"You make a strong case," he allowed, turning around for a moment so she couldn't see his smirk. Pretending to be contemplating the issue for several minutes, he remained silent. Finally, he stated, "well, since you didn't like the bed, you were probably going to get a new one sooner or later anyway, right?'

"I guess."

"What else did they take?"

"Everything," she shouted, throwing up her arms to emphasize her point. "My clothes are gone. They took my painting supplies, my TV, even my school books. Hell, they even took my tampons and condoms."

"So," he mused, shrugging his shoulders, "by that we know that the kidnappers are women and like to have sex."

"Jason," she stomped her foot as tears started to well up in her deep, bewitching, blue eyes, betraying the fact that she wasn't really mad but scared and distressed, "this isn't funny! They didn't even leave the important, personal things like all my pictures of you and Ella or the paintings she's made for me. I can't replace that stuff."

He had taken his joke far enough.

"Your things are fine," he promised her, moving to stand directly in front of his girlfriend so he could tip her chin up and look into her wide, sad gaze as he spoke. "Your clothes are hanging in my closet upstairs, your paint supplies are in the guest bedroom, and your furniture is in storage. I put your photo albums in the bottom drawer of my desk, and all of Ella's paintings are hanging up on the fridge."

"But I…," she blinked rapidly, her tears disappearing just as quickly as they had formed. "I don't understand."

"I moved you in today. There's not going to be a your place and a my place any more," he answered, hardening his features into a stern face that, he hoped, brokered absolutely no argument. "There's just going to be our place."

"So, let me get this straight," she started, stepping away from him to pace back and forth behind the couch. "Without asking me, you took it upon yourself to make this decision, to move me out of my studio and into your home?"

"Our home," he corrected, but she didn't appear to hear him.

"And I assume you also gave up my apartment, so I can't very well go back there even if I wanted to, right?"

"You're not going anywhere."

"Right," she realized for herself, rolling her eyes. "And you did all of this without considering the fact that I might like a say or would appreciate having a conversation about it first? Jason," she turned to look at him, "this is a big…huge decision. There are a lot of things we're going to have to work out."

"Actually," he contradicted her, "it's quite simple. You live her with me and Ella, and we become the family I know we both want to be."

"What about my portion of the bills, of the groceries, of the responsibilities around here," she suggested, nodding her head as if she were agreeing with her own ideas. "And, speaking of your daughter, did you even ask her what she thought about this?"

"Ella loves you. She'll want you to live here. As for all those other things," Jason shrugged his shoulders dismissively, "we'll figure them out as we go."

"Fine."

Well, he certainly hadn't expected it to be that easy. "Fine?"

"Yeah," the artist reiterated her response. "Fine. I'll do this for you, I'll move in here and I'll like it, just as long as you do something for me."

"Name it," he offered, smiling widely. "Anything you want."

"You have to go with me to my work Halloween party tonight."

"Elizabeth…"

"No, don't do that, don't _Elizabeth_ me," she threatened him, glowering in his direction. "You said you would do anything, and this is what I want." Sauntering past him, she went to move up the stairs. "By the way," she tossed over her shoulder, "it's a costume party."

"Fuck!"

"Now, Jason," she taunted, stopping to cast a disapproving look in his direction. "You're going to need punished later for that."

He simply grunted.

"Red or black?"

"Red or black what?"

"You'll find out later."

"Black," he barked, not really caring but going with a color he often relied upon for… we… everything. "Now can you tell me what it's for?"

"Nope," Elizabeth denied him. "It's going to be a part of your punishment later. I'm going to have one costume for the party and one just for you, and your only clues are that it'll be made out of something black and something very small." Pivoting back around to continue her way upstairs, she had one last thing to say. "Think about that while you're getting dressed for tonight, Jason."

Oh he would. He most certainly would.


End file.
